appear at luncheon) and left the house about 3 o’clock.
Owen Edwardes was not in his office when I passed. I wondered if he were also out at tea that afternoon, perhaps with the Princess Tchernova. As I turned up Elm Street, a limousine flashed past me, and stopped before the Arnold house. A moment later the sinuous form of the Russian stepped out of the shining car and mounted the house steps. Then it flashed across me whom it was Mrs. Differdale had meant by someone I’d enjoy meeting.
I felt angry. I had been trapped into meeting a woman who was striking underhanded blows at Portia, trapped into meeting her in a friendly, social way. I hesitated. I was half of a mind to turn back. And then it was too late, for Mrs. Differdale, opening the door to the princess with a gushing greeting which the Russian acknowledged with her inscrutable smile, saw me and called my name. I could not very well get out of it, so I went forward with what grace I could summon on such short notice.
“Ah, it is the dear Ow-een’s Aunt Sophie! Chère Aunt Sophie, in this wilderness how charmant to meet a kindred soul!”
She turned to her hostess, a pointed pink tongue moistening her lips with a lapping motion, that unpleasant little habit of hers to which Portia had referred.
“You are a good creature to have prepare this so beautiful surprize for me, chère amie. But let us go in; the spring air is not yet so warm.”
Her trailing metallic silks made it necessary for me to maintain a respectful distance from her, for which I was not sorry. It certainly seemed that in a moment she would have put her slender arms about me, have touched my cheeks with her red lips, such did her enthusiasm appear to be over our meeting. I could not help being a little flattered; after all, I am but human, and even if I did dislike her, why should I be displeased because she tried to be nice to me?
The two Arnold girls, Minna and Alice, had been dressed in white dresses for the grand occasion, and stood with beribboned hair, waiting for the company to arrive. Minna evidently felt very much at home with the princess, for she immediately went forward with the assurance of a favorite, and seated herself beside the charming Russian, who put an arm about the girl, pinching the plump shoulders playfully.
“So you were sick eating my chocolates, Minna? Pauvre enfant! Another time we must not eat so much at one time. But the sweets are good for you, little one; they will make you as round and plump as a fat partridge!”
The princess’ laugh rang out merrily at her comparison. Minna laughed, also, but even in her pert pride at having been singled out by the princess, the child did not forget to give me a saucy look. She certainly was a disagreeable child; there is no doubt about that.
“It is a pity Minna didn’t share her chocolates with Alice,” put in Mrs. Arnold, who wore the dress she had worn to the Sunday evening service, a home-made black velvet with a lace collar that was the only redeeming feature of the garment. “Alice needs to put on flesh far more than Minna.”
“You are right, chère Mrs. Arnold.”
The princess turned her attention to Alice.
“It shall be the little sister who shall have the next boxful of bonbons.”
The pointed little white teeth showed in a smile that for some
