Gita, nothing loath, as Eustace would be there to sustain her, permitted herself to be frankly bored once a week and made no pretense of listening to anyone but Bylant; who sat always at the right of his admiring hostess. His mellow voice came to her across the excited chatter of the others, who, as she had expected, said nothing that interested her, even when she understood what they were talking about. Bylant had his more distinguished friends down occasionally and one night he brought three to the manor to dinner. Gita dressed herself with even more interest in her appearance than usual and ordered Topper to bring up three bottles of vintage champagne from the cellar, and the cook to excel herself. At last she was to meet three of the most famous of the sophisticates, her future companions and friends. But one was fat, one was bald, and one after his second glass of champagne fell into a sentimental monologue inspired by his wife and two children. Nevertheless, their talk at times was scintillating and provocative, and their manner to herself irreproachable. One of the men at Polly’s last dinner had tried to snatch her hand under the table, his ankle receiving an answering caress from the sharp heel of her slipper; but these men, either because they were more interested in her dinner than herself, or because they looked upon her as Bylant’s private preserve, gave her no cause for future disquiet. She knew so much of their world from Eustace and Elsie that she was able to follow their somewhat random and ejaculatory talk and interpret their casual allusions. Their criticism of this author and that was given with sharp finality, and she rather admired their air of omniscience. She hoped she would acquire it herself when she was one of them. And they were rather lovable creatures, for their blasting comment was without bitterness and it was pleasant to bask in the atmosphere of people so thoroughly pleased with themselves. It was apparent they had a genuine appreciation of Eustace Bylant’s work, and took a friendly interest in Elsie’s. At Polly’s the conversation had been mainly of bootleggers. Not that this subject was one of indifference to the sophisticates; far from it; but the accident of fortune commanded a wider range of interests; and perhaps they were not averse from displaying their resources to this handsome young hostess who hung on their words. “I liked them all,” said Gita enthusiastically to Bylant on the day following as they sat by the pool in the wood. “I hope they’ll come often. Next summer I shall have house-parties. I’ll know more of your friends by that time and if all are as clever and convenable as these it will be like having a salon. I should feel very proud.” “Your occasional naïveté and humility are enchanting! But Elsie is going to Europe next summer. You will have to fall back on Mrs. Pleyden’s aunt.” “I might be married.” “Married!” Bylant, who had been lounging comfortably, sat up straight. “_You?_”