Tom reddened under his tan. “I hoped you would come; Miss Fordyce told me at the Army and Navy Club last night that she had tickets for the drill.” Janet, scenting a discussion, hurried into the parlor, followed by her brother and Barnard. “Besides,” added Tom, with honest intent, but stumbling over his speech. “I--eh--gave a--eh--half invitation to Joe Cooper to bring his mother and sister--there they are now,” and he hastened into the reception hall as the electric bell buzzed. Marjorie stifled an impatient sigh; she did not like the Calhoun-Coopers. The dislike was mutual. They had tried assiduously to cultivate the Fordyces, and Marjorie’s veiled opposition to any intimacy between Pauline Calhoun-Cooper and Janet had aroused their silent enmity. “Mother was very sorry not to be able to come,” announced a penetrating voice in the hall. “It was too sweet of you to ask us. Is this your parlor?” and the portières were pulled back, admitting a strikingly gowned young woman whose good looks were slightly marred by a discontented expression. “Dear Miss Fordyce, so glad to see you,” she gushed. “And of course, Miss Langdon,” but the latter handshake was perfunctory, and Pauline turned with added warmth to greet Duncan and Barnard. Joe Calhoun-Cooper was more quiet in his entrance, and Tom was leading his guests into the dining-room before Duncan noticed his presence. Barnard, lingering in the background, observed Duncan’s curt nod and Joe’s darkening face, and his curiosity was instantly aroused. It was the first time Joe had met Duncan since their encounter in the dormitory of the Turkish Bath, Joe having been in New York, but he had neither forgotten nor forgiven Duncan for his plain speech that day, and the physical force with which he had punctuated his meaning. “Will you take charge of the tea, Madge?” asked Tom, pulling out the chair at the head of the table. “I hope everything is here,” anxiously examining the bountifully supplied table. “Let me draw up a chair for you, Miss Fordyce.” Then turning to the others. “Do make yourselves comfortable,” he entreated. Duncan found himself sandwiched in between Pauline and her brother, Joe, and at some distance from Marjorie. He was spared the trouble of making small talk, for Pauline took that matter into her own hands, and kept up a running fire of comment which required only an occasional answer. To his great annoyance he discovered that Barnard and Marjorie were holding an animated, low-toned conversation, and Barnard’s manner was becoming more intense as the slow minutes passed. Pauline finally observed which way Duncan’s attention was straying, and her black eyes snapped with anger. “They make a very handsome couple,” she whispered confidentially, nodding toward Marjorie. “An old affair....” Duncan favored her with a blank, noncommittal stare, while inwardly furious. “Ah, indeed,” vaguely, then in a voice which made his sister jump, he called out: “Nice quarters you have, Nichols.”