Sammy laughed joyously, and a dozen fellow guests glanced sympathetically in the direction of the fresh, childish sound.

“Well, if that’s really your name, of course you can’t help it,” she conceded, adding, with the naivete that Mr. van Soop already found delightful:  “Wouldn’t the combination be awful, though!  Sammy van Soop!”

“If you’ll consider it, I’ll endeavor to make it the only sorrow you have to endure,” said Mr. van Soop; and the ensuing laughter brought them the attention of the whole table.

“No danger!” said Sammy, gayly.  “I’m going home in December, you know, to be married!”

Every one heard it.  Mary winced.  Mrs. Bond flushed.  Tom said a word that gave his pretty partner a right to an explanation.  But Sammy was apparently cheerful.

Only apparently, however.  For that night, when she found herself in her luxurious room again, she took Anthony’s picture from the bureau and studied it gravely under the lights.

“I said that right out,” she said aloud, “and I’ll keep on saying it.  Then, when the time comes to go, I simply can’t back out!”

She put the picture back, and sat down at her dressing-table and stared at her own reflection.  Her hair was filleted with silver and tiny roses; her gown was of exquisite transparent embroidery, and more tiny roses rumpled the deep lace collar.  But even less familiar than this finery were the cheeks that blazed with so many remembered compliments, the scarlet lips that had learned to smile so readily, the eyes brilliant with new dreams.

“I feel as if sorrow—­sorrow,” said little Sammy, shivering, “were just about two feet behind me, and as if—­if it ever catches up—­ I’ll be the most unhappy girl in the world!”

And she gave herself a little shake and put a firm little finger-tip on Gabrielle’s bell.

“Sammy,” said Mr. van Soop, one dull gray afternoon some weeks later, “I’ve brought you out for a special purpose to-day.”

“Tea?” said Sammy, contentedly.

“Tea, gluttonous one,” he admitted, turning his big car into the park.  “But, seriously, I want to ask you about your going away.”

“I don’t know that there’s anything to say about it,” said Sammy, carelessly.  “I’ve had a wonderful time, and every one’s been charming.  And now I’ve got to go back.”

“Sammy, I’ve no right to ask you a favor, but I’ve a reason,” Piet began.  He halted.  Both were crimson.

“Yes, yes; I know, Piet,” said Sammy, fluttered.

The car slackened, stopped.  Their faces were not two feet apart.

“Well!  Will you let me beg you—­for your aunt, and sister, and for—­ well, for me, and for your own sake, Sammy—­will you let me beg you just to wait?  Here, or there, or anywhere else—­will you just wait a while?”

Sammy was silent a moment.  Then—­

“For what reason?” she said.