"Teddy seems quite taken," she thought. But the tensity of the drama drove from her all other considerations. Completely mystified by Majendie’s manner, she was studying the moment when she could throw him together with Elise Bloodgood, convinced that from the woman she would learn what the man concealed. "Your rings are beautiful, dear, beautiful," said the deep voice of Maud Lille, who, with Garraboy and Mrs. Cheever, was in the room. "I never saw the ruby before," said Mrs. Cheever in a nervous voice. "My dear, you are the most mysterious woman in the world. Think of having a ring like that, and never wearing it!" "It is a wonderful stone," said Mrs. Kildair, touching with her thin fingers the ring that lay uppermost. "It is beautiful—very beautiful," said the journalist, her eyes fastened on it with an uncontrollable fascination. Mrs. Cheever, her lips parted, her black eyes wide with eagerness, leaned over. She put out her fingers and let them rest caressingly on the ruby, withdrawing them as though the contact had burned them, while on either cheek little spots of red excitement showed. "It must be very valuable," she said, her breath catching slightly. Garraboy, moving forward, suddenly looked at the ring. "Yes, it is valuable—very much so," said Mrs. Kildair, glancing down. Then she went to the door that led into the studio, and clapped her hands: "Attention, everybody! Beecher and Garraboy are the chefs. Each one must choose his scullery-maid. Mr. Majendie is to make the punch. Everyone else is butler and waitress. Mrs. Cheever, did you ever peel onions?" "Good heavens, no!" said Mrs. Cheever, delicately recoiling. "Well, there are no onions to peel," said Mrs. Kildair, laughing. "All you have to do is to carry dishes or make the toast—on to the kitchen!" "Miss Charters, you are engaged at any salary you may name," said Beecher, forestalling Garraboy, who was coming forward. "But I shall drop every dish," said Nan Charters, rising from the piano. "I don’t know anything about cooking." "Splendid! Then you’ll make no mistakes." He installed her at one end of the table, and went off for the chafing-dish. When he returned, gingerly balancing it on a silver platter, Garraboy, profiting by his absence, was seated beside Nan Charters, speaking in a purposely low voice. She was listening, perfectly composed, looking straight before her with a tolerant, uninterested smile. If women often can conceal their true natures from women, men seldom deceive one another. There was a fixity in Garraboy’s glance which Beecher understood and hotly resented. But at the moment when, setting the tray on the table, he was meditating some ill-advised remark, Mrs. Cheever, passing by, said with ill-concealed impatience in her thin, hurried voice: "Mr. Garraboy, I am sorry for you, but I have been assigned as your assistant, and I should like to know what I am to do."