As always when there were many people Ruth did not talk, but listened. Mrs. Peyton-Russell had come to talk over with Gloria the details of her Christmas party. As at present arranged she would have one more man than woman, and it appeared that her party must be conducted strictly on the Ark principle, with pairs. She was deeply distressed. She had invited Billie Irwin in a patronizing burst of generosity, but Billie had also secured an engagement that would take her out of town and could not come. “I don’t know who to have,” Angela complained. “Of course there are dozens of people I could ask, but I wanted this to be just our little Bohemian circle—no swank, no society people—just friends.” No one seemed to mind this remark. George had come in with a tea wagon and the Prince was engaged in the, to Ruth, alarming, procedure of drinking whiskey and soda and eating cake. Witnessing this catholic consumption of refreshment she could easily conceive that an invitation to any party under any circumstances, would be welcome to him. As for Gloria, she was accustomed to Angela, and did not mind her airs. Since her marriage Angela had consistently referred to all her old friends as “our little Bohemian circle,” a circle, to which she was constantly reverting for amusement, after unsuccessful attempts to gain access to the more conventional circles described as Society. “Angela’s heart is as good as her complexion,” Gloria always said, and that was indeed high praise. “Just tea, please, Gloria,” Angela was saying. “I never drink anything stronger any more—no, no real principle, but people in our position must set an example, you know. Not sweets—I really don’t dare, well just a tiny bit. You know there is a tendency to stoutness in our family.” “There is, I suppose, in that, nothing personal,” said Prince Aglipogue, hastily swallowing a _petit fours_. Angela laughed gaily. She pretended to believe everything the Prince said to be extremely clever. “But that doesn’t solve my problem,” said Angela. “You are all to come up on the Friday night train. We’ll meet you at the station at North Adams. You must be sure and dress warmly, because it’s a twenty-mile drive through the hills and while there’ll be lots of robes in the sleigh, one can’t have too much.” “It will remind me of Russia,” said the Prince. “You’ll be sure to bring your violin and some music,” said Angela. Prince Aglipogue assented carelessly. “I really think it will be tremendously successful,” said Angela, “not a dull person in the party, only John has invited one of his friends—he’s coming up early. I forget his name, but anyway I haven’t the slightest idea what he’s like and he makes my party uneven. Come to think, though, John said something about his being ill—lungs, I suppose, so perhaps he won’t want to talk to any one. Anyway I’ll try and think of some one congenial before it’s too late.”