"Very possibly. He'll be one of the most fashionable portrait painters of the day. But until that day comes, Maryon isn't going to tie himself up with a woman whose income ceases when she marries. Besides"--drily--"an unattached bachelor is considerably more in demand as a painter of society women's portraits than a Benedict."
"So Nan is to be sacrificed?" threw out Kitty.
"It seems like it. And as long as Maryon Rooke occupies the foreground in her mind, no other man will occur to her as anything but a friend."
"Then I wish somebody--or something--would sweep him out of her mind!"
"Well, he's away now, at any rate," said Penelope soothingly. "So let's be thankful for small mercies."
As she spoke, the maid--an improvement on their original "Adagio"--entered with a telegram on a salver which she offered to Penelope. The latter slit open the envelope without glancing at the address and uttered a sharp exclamation of dismay as she read the brief communication it contained.
"It's for Nan," returned Penelope shortly. "You can read it."
"_Am in town. Shall call this afternoon on chance of finding you in_.--ROOKE."
"The very last person we wanted to blow in here just now," commented Kitty as she returned the wire.
Penelope slipped it back into its envelope and replaced it on the salver.
"Take it to Miss Davenant," she told the maid quietly. "And explain that you brought it to me by mistake."
Meanwhile, in the next room, Peter and Nan, having completed their scheme of decoration with "smilax and things," were resting from their labours and smoking sociably together.
Nan cast a reflective eye upon the table.
"You don't think it looks too much like a shrubbery where you have to hunt for the cakes, do you?" she suggested.
"Certainly I don't," replied Peter promptly. "If there is some slight confusion occasioned by that trail of smilax round the pink sugar-icing cake it merely adds to its attractiveness. The charm of mystery, you know!"
"I believe if Maryon were here he would sweep it all on to the floor in disgust!" observed Nan suddenly. "He'd say we'd forfeited simplicity."
The warm colour rushed into Nan's face, and she glanced at Peter with startled--almost frightened--eyes. She could not conceive why the sudden recollection of Rooke should have sprung into her mind at this particular moment. With difficulty her lips framed the monosyllable "Yes."