For a moment Patricia hesitated. She was conscious that Galvin House was against her to a woman. After all there were limits beyond which it would be unwise to go. Galvin House had its standards, which had already been sorely tried. Patricia felt rather than heard the whispered criticism passing between Miss Wangle and Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe. Rising slowly with an air of reconciled martyrdom, Patricia went to the telephone at the end of the hall, followed by the smiling Gustave, who, like the rest of Galvin House, had found his sense of decorum sorely outraged by Patricia's conduct. "Hullo!" cried Patricia into the mouthpiece of the telephone, her heart thumping ridiculously. Gustave walked tactfully away. "That you, Patricia?" came the reply. Patricia was conscious that all her anger had vanished. "Yes, who is speaking?" "Peter." "Yes." "How are you?" "Did you ring me up to ask after my health?" There was a laugh at the other end. "Well!" enquired Patricia, who knew she was behaving like a schoolgirl. "Did you get my message?" "I'm very angry." "Why?" "Because you've made me ridiculous with your telegrams, messenger-boys, and telephoning." "May I call?" "No." "I'm coming to-morrow night." "I shall be out." "Then I'll wait until you return." "Are you playing the game, do you think?" "I must see you. Expect me about nine." "I shall do nothing of the sort." "Please don't be angry, Patricia." "Well! you mustn't come, then. Thank you for the chocolates and flowers." "That's all right. Don't forget to-morrow at nine." "I tell you I shall be out." "Right-oh!" "Good-bye!" Without waiting for a reply, Patricia hung up the receiver. When she returned to the lounge her cheeks were flushed, and she was feeling absurdly happy. Then a moment after she asked herself what it was to her whether he remembered or forgot her. He was an entire stranger--or at least he ought to be. Just as she was going up to her room for the night, another telegram arrived. It contained three words: "Good night peter." "Of all the ridiculous creatures!" she murmured, laughing in spite of herself. CHAPTER V PATRICIA'S REVENGE Galvin House dined at seven-thirty. Miss Wangle had used all her arts in an endeavour to have the hour altered to eight-fifteen, or eight-thirty. "It would add tone to the establishment," she had explained to Mrs. Craske-Morton. "It is dreadfully suburban to dine at half-past seven." Conscious of the views of the other guests, Mrs. Craske-Morton had held out, necessitating the bringing up of Miss Wangle's heavy artillery, the bishop, whose actual views Miss Wangle shrouded in a mist of words. As far as could be gathered, the illustrious prelate held out very little hope of salvation for anyone who dined earlier than eight-thirty.