"Not a bit. Calvin, place a chair for Mr. Dalton."

There were fruit and nuts and raisins in a great silver Pegeen, with fat
cupids making love among garlands. There was coffee in Severus cups.

Back among the shadows twinkled a priceless mirror; shutting off
Calvin's serving table was a painted screen worth its weight in gold. It
was a far cry from the catsup bottles and squalid service of George's
early days. The Bannisters of Huntersfield wore their poverty like a
plume!

The Judge carried Dalton off presently to the Bird Boom. George went
with reluctance. This was not what he had come for. Becky, slim and
small, with her hair peaked up to a topknot, Becky in pale blue, Becky
as fair as her string of imitation pearls, Becky in the golden haze of
the softly illumined room, Becky, Becky Bannister--the name chimed in
his ears.

Dalton had had some difficulty in getting away from Hamilton Hill.

"It's my last night," Madge had said; "shall we go out in the garden and
watch the moon rise?"

"Sorry," George had told her, "but I've promised Flora to take a fourth
hand at bridge."

"And after that?" asked Madge softly.

"What do you mean?"