He made the proper gallant retort, and asked, “What time do we show up at the Pleydens’?” “Ten-thirty. You’ve just time for a cigar in my ark. I simply long to see you in your chair again. It’s over a fortnight since you paid me a call.” CHAPTER III The Pleydens lived in a double apartment on Park Avenue and until lately the large drawing-room had resounded with jazz at least once a week. During the winter Mrs. Pleyden gave two musical evenings, a large dinner once a fortnight, followed by bridge, and numerous luncheons. She had no intention of retiring to a backwater, and Polly, to do her justice, never demanded the ignominy and even asked a few of her friends to the concerts. Tonight, although it was late in the season, a large company was assembled, and several of the women wore tiaras—less ponderous than Gita’s heirloom, however—supported their chins with high diamond collars, and clung to the elaborate coiffure of the past; but others, like Mrs. Pleyden—still in her forties despite two married daughters—covered their ears, indulged in a permanent wave, or arranged their hair in the manner best suited to their individual style. Mrs. Pleyden wore a jeweled band above her eyebrows, and her gown of eucalyptus-green satin embroidered with silver finished eight inches above the instep and was as modish as Polly’s. A short string of pearls clasped the base of her throat, and at the end of a long chain of platinum and small diamonds she carried a lorgnette. Her eyes were still clear and bright but growing defective in vision, and although lorgnettes were no longer employed to annihilate they were useful for casual print. Her concerts were always events, for she had the fine taste in music of educated New Yorkers, and a liberal understanding with stars of the opera and concert stage. The musicians performed on a raised dais at the end of the long room, and the guests sat as comfortably as might be on rows of gilt chairs. The decorations were yellow chrysanthemums, and a soft golden light was becoming to complexions both sacred and profane. Mr. Pleyden was not present. He was the able and industrious president of a railroad system and spent his evenings in his library reading detective stories.