“No,” replied Janet shortly, and again lapsed into silence. Janet’s thoughts at the moment were centered on Tom Nichols, as they had been all too frequently of late, considering she regarded herself secretly engaged to Chichester Barnard. Though absent, the latter’s daily notes, received surreptitiously, were a constant reminder of her pledge to him. Barnard’s charm of manner and conversation always left her breathless, carried away by the fervor of his pleading, but she turned restive under the exotic, extravagant phrases which cloaked his passionate intentness on paper. She longed for Tom’s breezy wholesomeness and merry smile. On their return from Bladensburg she and Tom had faithfully carried out their prearranged program, and no question had been raised, so far as Janet knew, as to where she had spent the early afternoon on Christmas. But what was giving Janet more concern than she had known in many years was the fact that she had neither seen nor heard from Tom since that afternoon, and that she had never received back the diamond and emerald bracelet which she had left with the Justice of the Peace at Hyattsville. And Tom had promised to get it for her the very next day! “Did mother invite Captain Nichols to our dinner next week?” she asked. “She put his name on the list, but I didn’t get the invitation written before we came out; however, I’ll call him up tonight, and ask him verbally and send him a reminder card later.” “There’s Duncan!” exclaimed Janet, catching a glimpse of her brother as the car turned the corner into H Street. “I hope he won’t forget to order the violets he promised me.” Spying them at the same moment Duncan raised his hat, and laughingly declining Janet’s frantic gesture to join them, he continued on his way to the Metropolitan Club. But at Seventeenth Street Tom Nichols drew his roadster up in front of the curb, and leaned forward to speak to him. “Jump in and come over to the Army and Navy Club with me,” he said, and Duncan, time hanging heavy on his hands, accepted the invitation with alacrity. “I intended calling up your house, Fordyce, to ask if your sister is home.” “She’s out calling; I just saw her and Miss Langdon in the limousine.” “Do you think she can see me this evening?” Tom swung his car into I Street. “I’m afraid not, we are all dining at the British Embassy. Will you be there?” “Not invited,” replied Tom shortly. He parked the roadster near the entrance to the club, and led Duncan into one of the smoking-rooms. Duncan found him singularly morose, and regarded the usually jovial young officer in some perplexity; then he concluded that Janet and Tom must have had a squabble of some sort and that the latter was trying to make up the quarrel.