Mrs. Paragon now took Vivette into the drawing-room. Peter and his friend talked yachting shop, and gave them time to become better acquainted. Mrs. Paragon did not take kindly to Vivette, but she realised that, as a mother, she owed her something, and she tried to put away her distrust. They talked without reserve, so far as appearance went; but Vivette knew she was not admitted far. She ruefully accepted the inevitable. She did not understand at all why Mrs. Paragon had taken it into her head to bring a stranger into Peter's farewell. Mrs. Paragon mildly baffled her polite astonishment. "Is it quite fair to me?" asked Vivette, still talking of Mdlle. Le Roy. "I think I deserve to be considered. I'm sending Peter away." "He will come back," said Mrs. Paragon briefly. "Safe and sound," Vivette put in. "Then you may change your mind." "I can be really serious in some ways." "There is a risk," Mrs. Paragon insisted. Her obstinacy reminded Vivette of Peter at his worst. "There is always a risk," she protested. "You can't tie Peter up." "No: I can't tie Peter up," Mrs. Paragon agreed, shutting her lips. Vivette tried to get in by another door. "Mdlle. Le Roy," she suggested, "is going to efface me." "Why should I wish it?" Mrs. Paragon innocently inquired. "Perhaps you like the look of her." "I do." Vivette sighed. "Peter won't have a very happy farewell," she said. A week later Atterbury remembered his beautiful stranger only as a guest to be identified by a card upon the table. Peter had entirely forgotten her, and Vivette, looking forward to an evening of light pleasure, agreeably dashed with regret, did not take Mdlle. Le Roy into serious account. The whole party was assembled in the Pinafore rooms at the Savoy, but Mrs. Paragon had not yet arrived. Peter had come early to approve the arrangements Atterbury had made, and had left his mother to follow by way of Claridge's. He was talking now with Haversham. Vivette saw a light leap suddenly into Peter's eyes. He seemed like one confronted with a miracle. "This," Vivette bitterly concluded, "is love at first sight." But Vivette was wrong. Peter's brain was dazzled as by lightning. A flood of forgotten life was loosed upon him out of the past. He was looking at Miranda. XLI Mrs. Paragon had at once recognised Atterbury's sketch. She went, the day after she had seen it, to verify, waiting in the hotel in quiet amazement. It seemed strange to come to this place for Miranda. She remembered her as an awkward girl, hoydenly and tempestuous, absurdly transfigured by Peter's worship. Then she had found her again sleeping in Peter's brain, to lose her for ever in a brutal disaster of the sea. Miranda came slowly to meet her, holding in her hand the card she had sent.