“Undine didn’t come.”

“Didn’t come?  Who brought the boy, then?”

“He didn’t come either.  That’s why the cake’s not cut.”

Ralph frowned.  “What’s the mystery?  Is he ill, or what’s happened?”

“Nothing’s happened—­Paul’s all right.  Apparently Undine forgot.  She never went home for him, and the nurse waited till it was too late to come.”

She saw his eyes darken; but he merely gave a slight laugh and drew out his cigarette case.  “Poor little Paul—­poor chap!” He moved toward the fire.  “Yes, please—­some tea.”

He dropped back into his chair with a look of weariness, as if some strong stimulant had suddenly ceased to take effect on him; but before the tea-table was brought back he had glanced at his watch and was on his feet again.

“But this won’t do.  I must rush home and see the poor chap before dinner.  And my mother—­and my grandfather?  I want to say a word to them—­I must make Paul’s excuses!”

“Grandfather’s taking his nap.  And mother had to rush out for a postponed committee meeting—­she left as soon as we heard Paul wasn’t coming.”

“Ah, I see.”  He sat down again.  “Yes, make the strong, please.  I’ve had a beastly fagging sort of day.”

He leaned back with half-closed eyes, his untouched cup in his hand.  Bowen took leave, and Laura sat silent, watching her brother under lowered lids while she feigned to be busy with the kettle.  Ralph presently emptied his cup and put it aside; then, sinking into his former attitude, he clasped his hands behind his head and lay staring apathetically into the fire.  But suddenly he came to life and started up.  A motor-horn had sounded outside, and there was a noise of wheels at the door.

“There’s Undine!  I wonder what could have kept her.”  He jumped up and walked to the door; but it was Clare Van Degen who came in.  At sight of him she gave a little murmur of pleasure.  “What luck to find you!  No, not luck—­I came because I knew you’d be here.  He never comes near me, Laura:  I have to hunt him down to get a glimpse of him!”

Slender and shadowy in her long furs, she bent to kiss Mrs. Fairford and then turned back to Ralph.  “Yes, I knew I’d catch you here.  I knew it was the boy’s birthday, and I’ve brought him a present:  a vulgar expensive Van Degen offering.  I’ve not enough imagination left to find the right thing, the thing it takes feeling and not money to buy.  When I look for a present nowadays I never say to the shopman:  ’I want this or that’—­I simply say:  ‘Give me something that costs so much.’”

She drew a parcel from her muff.  “Where’s the victim of my vulgarity?  Let me crush him under the weight of my gold.”

Mrs. Fairford sighed out “Clare—­Clare!” and Ralph smiled at his cousin.

“I’m sorry; but you’ll have to depute me to present it.  The birthday’s over; you’re too late.”

She looked surprised.  “Why, I’ve just left Mamie Driscoll, and she told me Undine was still at Popple’s studio a few minutes ago:  Popple’s giving a tea to show the picture.”