"Informal, but very gorgeous, just the same. She wouldn't give anybody but you such an elastic invitation as that, and you should appreciate her eagerness to get you," declared Judith, who cared very much from whom her invitations came and could never understand her friend's careless attitude toward the most impressive of them. Juliet watched her guest go down the street, and waved an affectionate hand at her as Judith looked back from her seat in the trolley car. "Poor old Judy," she said to herself. "How glad you are you're not I!--And how very, very glad I am I'm not you!" An observation, it must be admitted, essentially feminine. No man is ever heard to felicitate himself upon the fact that he is not some other man. XV.--ANTHONY PLAYS MAID After dinner that night, Juliet, having once more put things in order and slipped off the big pinafore which had kept her spotless, joined her husband in the garden up and down which he was comfortably pacing, hands in pockets, pipe in mouth. "Jolly spot, isn't it? Come and perambulate," he suggested. "Just for a minute. Tony, are we going to the Reardons?" He stood still and considered. "I don't know. Are we? Did you accept?" "On condition that you felt like it. I represented you as coming home decidedly fagged these hot nights and not always caring to stir." "Wise schemer! I don't mind the aspersion on my physical being. She urged, I suppose?" "She did. I don't know why." "I do." Anthony smiled down at his wife. "Everybody is a bit curious about us these days. Your position, you see, is considered very extraordinary." "Nonsense, Tony. Shall we go?" "Possibly we'd better, though it racks my soul to think of dressing. The less I wear my festive garments the less I want to. For that very reason, suppose we discipline ourselves and go. Do you mind?" "Not at all. We'll have to dress at once, for it's nearly eight now, and by the time we have caught a train and got to Hollyhurst----" "To be sure. Here goes, then." Half an hour later Anthony, wrestling with a refractory cuff button, looked up to see his wife at his elbow. She was very nearly a vision of elegance and beauty; the lacking essential was explained to him by a voice very much out of breath and a trifle petulant: "If you care anything for me, Tony, stop everything and hook me up. I'm all mixed up, and I can't reach, and I'm sure I've torn that little lace frill at the back." "All right. Where do I begin?" "Under my left arm, I think--I can't possibly see." "Neither can I." He was poking about under the lifted arm, among folds of filmy stuff. "Here we are--no, we aren't. Does this top hook go in this little pocket on the other side?" "I suppose so--can't you tell whether it does by the look?" "It seems a bit blind to me," murmured Anthony, struggling. "It's meant to be blind--it mustn't show when it's fastened."