It was possible that Mrs. Torrence had prepared for their entrance by posing in the middle of the room with a view to a first effect, an effect to which her quick little step as she came forward to meet them contributed. Her blue tea gown, parted a little above the ankles, invited inspection of her remarkably small feet adorned with brilliant buckles. She was short with a figure rounded to plumpness and with fluffy brown hair, caught up high as though to create an illusion as to her stature. Her complexion was a clear brilliant pink; her alert small eyes were a greenish blue. Her odd little staccato walk was in keeping with her general air of vivacity. She was all alive, amusingly abrupt, spontaneous, decisive. “Hello! Bud, the old reliable! Mr. Storrs! Yes; I _had_ been hoping for this!” She gave a hand to each and looked up at Bruce, who towered above her, and nodded as though approving of him. “This is delightful! A new man! Marvelous!” As she explained that she had been away since June and was only just home, Bruce became aware that Henderson had passed on and was standing by a tea table indulging in his usual style of raillery with a young woman whose voice even before he looked at her identified her as Constance Mills. “You know Mrs. Mills? Of course! If you’d only arrived this morning you’d know Connie. Not to know Connie is indeed to be unknown.” Constance extended her hand from the divan on which she was seated behind the tea table--thrust it out lazily with a minimum of effort. “Oh--the difficult Mr. Storrs! I’m terribly mortified to be meeting you in a friend’s house and not in my own!” “To meet you anywhere----” began Bruce, but she interrupted him, holding him with her eyes. “----would be a pleasure! Of course! I know the formula, but I’m not a debutante. You didn’t like me that night we met at Dale Freeman’s, and I was foolish enough to think I’d made an impression!” “Let’s tell him the truth,” said Henderson, helping himself to a slice of cinnamon toast. “Bruce, I bet a hundred cigarettes with Connie I could deliver you here and I win!” “Not a word of truth in that!” declared Constance. “Bud’s such a liar!” Mrs. Torrence said they must have tea, and Henderson protested that tea was not to be thought of. Tea, he declared, was extremely distasteful to him; and Bruce always became ill at the sight of it. “But when I told Connie you were bringing Mr. Storrs she said he was terribly proper and for me not to dare mention cocktails.” “Now, Helen, I didn’t say just that! What I meant, of course, was that I hoped that Mr. Storrs wasn’t too proper,” said Constance. “Proper!” Bruce caught her up. “This is an enemy’s work. Bud, I suspect you of this dastardly assault on my character!” “Not guilty!” Bud retorted. “The main thing right now is that we’re all peevish and need martinis. What’s the Volstead signal, Helen?” “Three rings, Bud, with a pause between the first and second.”