"Look here," said Sullivan, becoming grave and dropping his voice, "there are four hundred invitations, and it'll cost me seven hundred and fifty pounds. But it pays. You know that, don't you, Marie? Look at the advertisement! And I've got a lot of newspaper chaps here. It'll be in every paper to-morrow. I reckon I've done this thing on the right lines. It's only a reception, of course, but let me tell you I've seen after the refreshments--not snacks--refreshments, mind you! And there's a smoke-room for the boys, and the wife's got a spiritualism-room, and there's the show in this room. Some jolly good people here, too--not all chorus girls and walking gents. Are they, Marie?" "You bet not," the lady replied. "Rosetta Rosa's coming, and she won't go quite everywhere--not quite! By the way, it's about time she did come." He looked at his watch. "Ah, Mr. Foster," the divette said, "you must tell me all about that business. I'm told you were there, and that there was a terrible scene." "What business?" I inquired. "At the Opera the other night, when Alresca broke his thigh. Didn't you go behind and save his life?" "I didn't precisely save his life, but I attended to him." "They say he is secretly married to Rosa. Is that so?" "I really can't say, but I think not." "What did she say to him when she went into his dressing-room? I know all about it, because one of our girls has a sister who's in the Opera chorus, and her sister saw Rosa go in. I do want to know what she said, and what he said." An impulse seized me to invent a harmless little tale for the diversion of Marie Deschamps. I was astonished at my own enterprise. I perceived that I was getting accustomed to the society of greatness. "Really?" she exclaimed, when I had finished. "I assure you." "He's teasing," Sullivan said. "Mr. Foster wouldn't do such a thing," she observed, drawing herself up, and I bowed. A man with an eye-glass came and began to talk confidently in Sullivan's ear, and Sullivan had to leave us. "See you later," he smiled. "Keep him out of mischief, Marie. And I say, Carl, the wife said I was to tell you particularly to go into her crystal-gazing room. Don't forget." "I'll go, too," Miss Deschamps said. "You may take me there now, if you please. And then I must go down to where the champagne is flowing. But not with you, not with you, Mr. Foster. There are other gentlemen here very anxious for the post. Now come along."