"You'll be bringing Barnum and Bailey back to dinner next," he prophesied. "Or one of the keepers at the Zoo. I don't want this house filled with showmen and cranks. I knew what it would be when you started that club of yours. I should have thought three children was enough for any woman. But go your own way. Don't let anything I say interfere with your pleasures. From what I can see of it the women will be ruling the men before long." Mary let her husband grumble on for a while. Then she suggested a few names for a dinner-party. "I don't want a dinner-party," he declared angrily. "I'm terribly overworked just now, and I like to rest whenever I can. You know how late I've been kept every day this week at the office. We get quite enough dinner-parties that we have to give and go to without letting ourselves in for any more than are necessary." "Very well then," said Mary, "I'll ask nobody else." "A jolly evening for me to look forward to," grumbled her husband. "Very jolly." "You'll find Monsieur Menard most interesting, I assure you. His adventures in Madagascar...." "Madagascar!" Jemmie interrupted angrily. "What do I care about Madagascar! I'm not a girl's club. You'll be suggesting in a minute that I should read _Robinson Crusoe_ on my way to the office." Mary began to laugh, upon which her husband retired in dudgeon to the billiard-room, where he succeeded in making a break of thirty-one by the indiscriminate use of both white balls and was comparatively pleasant when he emerged again. On the evening that Pierre was invited to dinner at eight, Mary began to dress at half-past six; by a quarter-past seven Adèle was in despair, and the room was littered with discarded frocks. While the discussion was proceeding, with Adèle becoming more voluble every moment, a note arrived by messenger boy from Jemmie to say he was afraid that he should not be able to get home to-night, as he had to go down into the country upon very important business. He asked Mary to make his apologies to Mr. Menard. "Unusually polite," she thought, and went back to a consideration of her dress for to-night. Since her husband's note that problem assumed an even greater importance. In the end she chose light blue as the color, and the sash of a darker shade tied in a large bow over her left hip made her seem much younger. Adèle declared that she had not changed in ten years, and Mary blushed with pleasure at the obvious compliment. "And I really do feel quite young to-night," she assured her maid.