"What do you think of it all, Carlisle?" "Sweet, Hugo!... So simple and artless and homey!" "Exactly," said Canning; and obtained permission for a cigarette. "But yet interesting as a vaudeville show, don't you think? What so amusing as to see human vanity displaying itself not merely without reserve but with a terrific blowing of horns?" "Well put, Hugo!" said Mrs. Heth, who held that any kind of generalization constituted good talk. She added: "Who are all these people? How would one place them?" Canning could indicate a celebrity or two. He had bowed several times, finding acquaintances, it seemed, even in this glittering farrago. But his eyes returned to his bride-to-be, from whom he removed his gaze with reluctance to-night. She wore a dress of yellow crêpe-de-chine, with a draped arrangement of blue chiffon, which followed faithfully the long lines of her figure; and a hat of blue straw with an uncurled yellow plume. It was a beautiful dress, though mamma considered it just a thought too low, even with a handkerchief put in. And Cally looked back at her lover and thought: Who so honored and honorable as he? He'll only be sorry that I've waited so long.... "Only," she said, aloud, "they do keep the room rather hot for the provinces, where some air is preferred. More good things to eat, Hugo? It's a collation...." "A poor one, I'm afraid. You've touched nothing." He dispatched an army of men to adjust electric fans, turn patent ventilators, and even to do so crude a thing as open a window. "It is all most delicious, Hugo," reassured Mrs. Heth. "I hadn't noticed that the room was warm, either." "My cheeks are burning. Touch my hand, Hugo. You see it's on fire." All three looked up as a boy in buttons stood at Carlisle's elbow, and said: "Got your party on the wire, mum." "Party on the wire? What's this?" said mamma. Carlisle laid her napkin on the table. Surprise confronted her, written large on the faces of her mother and her lover; but it did not arrest her. "I'm wanted at the telephone. Do you mind, Hugo? I won't he gone a minute." "_But_--you mustn't go _now_, my dear!" said Mrs. Heth, astonished. "Let the boy take the number. Why--who on earth could it be, calling you _here?_--" "I'd rather go now, mamma, if Hugo'll forgive me--" "It's from Flora!" said Mrs. Heth, positively. "No one else knew. A telegram's come, saying your father is sick--" Carlisle laughed and rose dazzingly, burning without but colder than Alpine snow within. "Not in the least, mamma dear! You see I put in this call myself. I'll explain all about it in a minute...." Explain! Why she would walk back to this table from the telephone, laughing, and saying: "Now, praise me, Hugo and mamma, for I've just been doing a deed of mercy! Do you remember that day at the Beach?..." Was it the fear of this that she had let plague her all these days?... "To be answered _here_--at dinner--in this public place? Why, my dear Cally, I really...."