Garraboy rose immediately, bowed with perfect suavity, and rejoined Mrs. Cheever, who said to him something that the others did not hear, but at which they saw him shrug his shoulders. "Well, what are we going to make?" said Nan Charters, with the enjoyment that this exhibition of feminine jealousy had brought still in her eyes. "I don’t like Garraboy," said Beecher directly. "Why not?" she said, smiling a little, and raising her eyebrows as though interrogating a child. "Because I like you," he answered abruptly. Accustomed to contend with men, she was surprised by the genuineness of his remark, which was inspired by a sentiment deeper than jealousy. She looked at him again with that sudden second estimate which is vital. "He is not difficult to handle," she said carelessly, unaware of the touch of intimacy which her reply permitted. "I don’t like him," he said obstinately, "and I don’t like his crowd—the crowd that is here to-night. They’re like a pack of wolves. What the deuce does Rita see in them?" "Mrs. Kildair has generally, I should say, a very good reason for whom she invites," she said carelessly. "But these Cheevers—they’re impossible. How the deuce do they live?" "I thought Mr. Majendie very charming." "Oh, Majendie—yes, I except him," he said enthusiastically. "He’s a gentleman." "That counts a good deal with you?" she said, with a touch of raillery. "It does. I think a gentleman is almost the rarest thing you meet with today," he said, holding his ground, "a gentleman in the heart. I know only four or five." "Yes, you are right," she said, changing her tone. She looked at him a third time, at the honest, boyish loyalty so plainly written on his face, and said: "You haven’t gone out much here?" "No; I’m just back from knocking around the world, hunting in Africa and all that sort of uselessness." "Come and tell me about it sometime. "May I?" She laughed at his impetuousness, and pointed to the contents of the chafing-dish, which had been simmering neglected; but more than once during the operation her glance returned to the eager, earnest face. Meanwhile, Garraboy, at the other end of the table, assisted by Mrs. Cheever and Maud Lille, was busy with a lobster à la Newburg. Mrs. Kildair, having finished in the kitchen, had entered the dining-room, where she established a sort of provisional serving-table. She called to her side Cheever and Bloodgood, and, under the pretext of arranging the dishes from the china-closet, kept them isolated. At this moment Elise Bloodgood approached Majendie, who, at the rear end of the studio, was occupied with the brewing of a punch. Natural as was the movement, it was instantly perceived by the four or five persons vitally interested. A moment afterward Mrs. Bloodgood passed into the bedroom; but there was in her carriage a triumph that she did not care to conceal. "He’s won out," thought Bloodgood.