When the girl returned to the hotel, Mrs. Tramore mentioned, before Captain Jay, who had come up to their sitting-room, that Lady Maresfield had called. "She stayed a long time—at least it seemed long!" laughed Mrs. Tramore.
The poor lady could laugh freely now; yet there was some grimness in a colloquy that she had with her daughter after Bertram Jay had departed. Before this happened Mrs. Vesey's card, scrawled over in pencil and referring to the morrow's luncheon, was brought up to Mrs. Tramore.
"They mean it all as a bribe," said the principal recipient of these civilities.
"As a bribe?" Rose repeated.
"She wants to marry you to that boy; they've seen Captain Jay and they're frightened."
"Well, dear mamma, I can't take Mr. Mangier for a husband."
"Of course not. But oughtn't we to go to the luncheon?"
"Certainly we'll go to the luncheon," Rose said; and when the affair took place, on the morrow, she could feel for the first time that she was taking her mother out. This appearance was somehow brought home to every one else, and it was really the agent of her success. For it is of the essence of this simple history that, in the first place, that success dated from Mrs. Vesey's Venetian déjeuner, and in the second reposed, by a subtle social logic, on the very anomaly that had made it dubious. There is
