"And now we shall all have to fetch and carry for Miss Brent," laughed Mr. Bolton. "Am I your friend, Miss Brent?" he enquired. "She always laughs at your jokes when nobody else can," snapped Miss Pilkington. Everybody turned to the speaker, who during the whole meal had silently nursed her resentment at having been placed at the bottom of the table. Mr. Bolton looked crestfallen. Bowen looked across at Patricia and saw her smile sympathetically at Mr. Bolton. "I think from what I have heard, Mr. Bolton," he said, "that you may regard yourself as one of the elect." Patricia flashed Bowen a grateful look. Mr. Bolton beamed and, turning to Miss Pilkington, said with his usual introductory laugh: "Then I shall return good for evil, Miss Pilkington, and persuade Lady Peter to buy her stamps at your place." Miss Pilkington flushed at this reference to her calling, a particularly threadbare joke of Mr. Bolton's. "When is it to be, Lord Peter?" enquired Mrs. Craske-Morton. Miss Sikkum looked down modestly at her plate, not quite certain whether or no this were a delicate question. "That rests with Miss Brent," replied Bowen, smiling. "If you, her friends, can persuade her to make it soon, I shall be very grateful." Miss Sikkum simpered and murmured under her breath, "How romantic." "Now, Miss Brent," said Mr. Bolton, "it's up to you to name the happy day." Patricia smiled, conscious that all eyes were upon her; but particularly conscious of Bowen's gaze. "I believe in long engagements," she said, stealing a glance at Bowen and thrilling at the look of disappointment on his face. "Didn't Jacob serve seven years for Rachel?" "Yes, and got the wrong girl then," broke in Mr. Bolton. "You'll have to be careful, Miss Brent, or Miss Sikkum will get ahead of you." "Really, Mr. Bolton!" said Mrs. Craske-Morton, looking anxiously at Bowen. Miss Sikkum's cheeks had assumed the same tint as her nose, and her eyes were riveted upon her plate. Miss Pilkington muttered something under her breath about Mr. Bolton's remark being outrageous. "I think we'll take coffee in the lounge," said Mrs. Craske-Morton, rising. Turning to Bowen, she added, "We follow the American custom, Lord Peter, the gentlemen always leave the dining-room with the ladies." There was a pushing back of chairs and a shuffling of feet and Galvin House rose from its repast. "Coffee will not be served for half an hour, and if you and Miss Brent would like to--to----" Mrs. Craske-Morton paused significantly. "My boudoir is at your service." Bowen looked at her and then at Patricia. He saw the flush on her cheeks and the humiliation in her eyes. "I think we should much prefer not to interrupt our pleasant conversation. What do you say, Patricia?" he enquired, turning to Patricia, who smiled her acquiescence.