Luckily, his friends would go directly from the manor to their hotel and leave by an early train for New York, either to spend Christmas day with their families or to pay visits elsewhere. As he was, in a way, the host of the occasion, he had an excuse to linger until the other guests had left—and then sneak home to his lodgings! But he’d have an understanding tomorrow. No one was more anxious to avoid gossip than Gita. With a clear complexion and clearer head he presented himself before the future partner of his days shortly after a one-step had begun, and Polly once more was dancing with Dr. Pelham. “Oh!” exclaimed Gita. “You look yourself again—except for that wig. I was going to give you a piece of my mind.” “Glad I escaped it,” he said, smiling. “I went outside and cooled off my head. I’ll take off the wig if you say the word. Only too glad to be rid of it.” “No. Not yet. The other men would follow suit and I don’t want my picture spoiled. But mind you take it off before I come down. Nothing would induce me to marry you in it. I’d feel as if I were marrying old Cornbury.” “Well, if you wear yours I’ll feel as if I were marrying my great-grandmother.” Gita laughed merrily, her equilibrium restored now that Eustace was himself again. And she felt a sudden inexplicable desire for his protection. She took his arm and led him to the deep window-seat behind the Christmas tree that stood in an angle beside the fireplace. “It was terribly thoughtless of me not to ask you to bring your things over,” she said. “But I’ll have a room prepared tomorrow. Unless you’d like to go to New York at once?” “I’d far rather stay in the country.” He drew a deep sigh of relief. Gita had a way of coming to her senses—tardily, but with a satisfying completeness. It augured well for the future, and his reward would be in just proportion to his torments. He took her hand tentatively, and to his surprise she did not draw it away. She smiled at him serenely. “It’s odd,” she said musingly, “but I don’t mind you touching me in the least, and I hate even to shake hands with another man.” He tightened his grasp. This was the scene and the hour for love-making, and the seclusion was complete. “I suppose you wouldn’t kiss me?” Then as she frowned he added hastily, “Even men kiss one another in Europe, you know.” “Only on the cheek and always look too silly for words. But you may kiss me there if you are feeling sentimental.” The icy shower had steadied his nerves. He implanted a chaste salute on a cool cheek. “I’m not feeling in the least sentimental, but somehow it seemed the thing to do. Old Cornbury, no doubt, kissed every girl he managed to get into a corner. And knocked her wig off. By the way, we represent various eras tonight and I’m not sure they wore wigs in all of them.”