III

It was two hours later that Carey presented himself at his cousin’s house.  He entered unobtrusively, as his manner was, knowing himself to be a welcome guest.

The first person to greet him was Gwen, who, accompanied by a college youth of twenty, was roasting chestnuts in front of the hall fire.  She sprang up at the sound of his voice, and, flushed and eager, rushed to meet him.

“Why, Reggie, my dear old boy, who would have thought of seeing you to-night?  Come right in!  Aren’t you very cold?  How did you get here?  Have you dined?  This is Charlie Rivers, the Admiral’s son.  Charlie, you have heard me speak of my cousin, Mr. Carey.”

Charlie had, several times over, and said so, with a grin, as he made room for Carey in front of the blaze, taking care to keep himself next to Gwen.

Carey considerately fell in with the manoeuvre and, greetings over, they huddled sociably together over the fire, and fell to discussing the birthday party which was to be held on the morrow.

Gwen was a curious blend of excitement and common sense.  She had been busily preparing all day for the coming festivity.

“There’s one visitor I want you both to be very good to,” she said, “and see that she takes plenty of refreshments, whether she wants them or not.”

Young Rivers grimaced at Carey.

“You can have my share of this unattractive female,” he said generously.  “It’s Gwen’s schoolmistress, and I’ll bet she’s as heavy as a sack of coals.”

“I can’t dance.  I’m lame,” said Carey.  “But I don’t mind sitting out in the refreshment room to please Gwen.  How old is she, Gwen?  About twice my age?”

Gwen did not stop to calculate.

“Older than that, I should think.  Her hair is quite grey, and she’s very sad and quiet.  I am sure she has had a lot of trouble.  Very likely she won’t want to dance either, so there will be a pair of you.  Her name is Mademoiselle Treves, but she is only half French, and speaks English better than I do.  She never goes anywhere, so I do want her to have a good time.  You will be kind to her, won’t you?  I’ll introduce you to her as early as possible.  We are all going to wear masks till midnight.”

“Stupid things—­masks,” said Charlie very decidedly.  “Don’t like ’em.”

Gwen turned upon him.

“It’s much the fairest way.  If we didn’t wear them, the pretty girls would get all the best dances.”

“Oh, well, you wouldn’t be left out, anyway,” he assured her.

At which compliment Gwen sniffed contemptuously, and pointedly requested Carey to give her a few minutes in strict privacy before they parted for the night.

He saw that she meant it; and when Charlie had reluctantly taken himself off he went with his young cousin to her own little sitting-room upstairs before seeking Lady Emberdale in the drawing-room.