Dorothy rose from her chair.  Her brown eyes surveyed her brother from between heavy chestnut lashes, and just now they were very haughty eyes.  Her curving, crimson lips were scornful.  “I find it difficult to believe,” she observed, “that a boy whom I particularly detested, one of the most awkward, solemn-faced, uninteresting boys I ever saw in my life, can have blossomed into such a wonder.  As for Ridgeway Jordan, I like him very much.  He may be a society man—­which is no crime, I believe—­but he is also making quite as good, in his way, as your friend, Mr. Waldron.  And I certainly am not going to throw over an engagement as binding as this one to give anybody ‘the time of his life.’”

She walked out of the room, cancelling the effect of her haughtiness by turning to throw back a smile at her brother, as ravishing a smile as if he were no brother at all.

Her sister, Mrs. Jack Elliot, entering in time to glance curiously from Dorothy’s smile to Julius’s scowl, inquired of Julius what might be the matter.

He shook his head.  “I don’t like the symptoms.  She takes it more and more seriously when I hit Ridge Jordan in any way.  I like Ridge myself, but I wouldn’t see Dot marry him for a good deal.”

“I don’t believe there is the least danger,” his elder sister replied.  She looked a mere girl herself.  She was immolating herself just now, as was everybody else in the suburban town, on the altar of the Clifford-Jordan bridal party.  That the dinners and dances, drives and luncheons might proceed without hindrance many family schedules were being upset.  Mrs. Jack’s one anxiety at present was to have her charming sister’s bloom remain unworn by fatigue.  Thus far Dorothy was holding out better than any of the other bridesmaids.  “Her colour was just as good as ever, wasn’t it?” Mrs. Jack murmured absently, preparing to remove Dorothy’s fruit plate.  “I don’t believe she ate a thing but fruit,” she murmured.

“Best thing she could do.  After the stuff she undoubtedly got away with at midnight her only salvation’s a light breakfast.  As to her colour, I enriched it,” he explained grimly, “by mentioning my feeling about Ridge.  If I thought, after all the attentions that girl has had, that she’d take Ridge Jordan—­with all his money!  Dot’s no girl to care such a lot about money.  It’s this crazy bridal-party business that’s upset her, I’ll go you!  The thing’s contagious.  Lord Harry!  I don’t know that I could look long at Irene and Harold myself without getting a touch of it.”

“A touch!  You and Sally?” Mrs. Jack smiled.

“Oh, well; that’s different.”  Her brother thrust his hands into his pockets and walked over to the window.  “Entirely different.  Sally and I were intended for each other from the beginning; everybody knows that.  But now—­what in thunder am I going to do with Waldron?  Tell me that.  I’ve got him to come down here expressly to meet Dot.  Of course I didn’t tell him so; he’s not that sort.  And now she’s off for all to-morrow with that confounded bridal party.”