"I'm sure if you want Mr. Pennington here, he'll be welcome," he said with a slow smile. "He's a very, very old friend of yours, isn't he, Patty?" "Oh, yes--since school days," she said, quietly. And she blushed again, but if Crabb noticed, it was not apparent, for he immediately busied himself with his soup. "He used to be such a nice boy," said Patricia. "But I'm afraid he got pretty wild and----" "Yes," put in her husband, a little dryly. "I've heard something about him." She glanced at him quickly, but he did not look up and she went on: "I thought it would be nice if we could do a little something for him, give him a lift, introduce him to some influential people----" "Make an opportunity for him, in short," said Crabb. "Er--yes. He has had a pretty hard time, I think." "I shouldn't be surprised," said Crabb, "most people do." Patricia foresaw an opportunity such as she had never had before, and a hundred plans at once flashed into her pretty head for the prodigal's regeneration. First, of course, she must kill the fatted calf, and she therefore planned at once a dinner party, at which Mr. Pennington should meet some of her intimate friends, Dicky Bowles and his wife, the Burnetts, who were on from Washington, the Charlie Chisolms and her sister Penelope. For reasons of her own Stephen Ventnor was not invited. Patricia presided skilfully with an air of matronly benevolence not to be denied and dextrously diverted the conversation into channels strictly impersonal. So that after dinner, while Charlie Chisolm was still talking rifle-bores with Mortimer, Patricia and Heywood Pennington went into the conservatory to see the new orchids. That was the first of many dinners. Patricia invited all the eligible girls of her acquaintance, one after another, and sat them next to Mr. Pennington in an apparent endeavor to supply the deficiency she had caused in that gentleman's affections. But new orchids came continually to the conservatory, and Patricia was not loath to show them. Then followed rides in the motor car when Crabb was down-town, and shopping expeditions when Crabb was at the club, for which Patricia chose Heywood Pennington as her escort, and whatever Mortimer Crabb thought of it all, he said little and looked less. But if her husband had been willing to worship blindly before he and Patricia had been engaged, marriage had cleared away some of the nebulæ. He had learned to look upon his wife as a dear, capricious being, and with the abounding faith and confidence of amply proportioned men he was willing to believe that Patricia, like Cæsar's wife, was above suspicion. He was quite sure that she was foolish. But Patty's little finger foolish was more important to Mortimer than a whole Minerva.