This unstudied treatment, strange to say—­the result really, of the boy’s indifference—­had of late absorbed her.  What she could not have she generally longed for, and there was not the slightest question up to the present moment that Jack was still afield.

Again the girl pressed the button of the cord within reach of her hand, and for the third time Hortense entered.

“Have you told Parkins I want to know the very instant Mr. John comes in?”

“Yes, miss.”

“And, Hortense, did you understand that Mr. John was to go out to meet the gentleman, or was the gentleman to come to his rooms?”

“To his rooms, I think, miss.”

She was wearing her blue tea-gown, stretched out on the cushions of one of the big divans in the silent drawing-room, when she heard Jack’s night-key touch the lock.  Springing to her feet she ran toward him.

“Why, Jack, what’s this I hear about your not coming to my dance?  It isn’t true, is it?” She was close to him now, her little head cocked on one side, her thin, silken draperies dripping about her slender figure.

“Who told you?”

“Parkins told Hortense.”

“Leaky Parkins?” laughed Jack, tossing his hat on the hall table.

“But you are coming, aren’t you, Jack?  Please do!”

“Not to-night; you don’t need me, Corinne.”  His voice told her at once that not only was the leash gone but that the collar was off as well.

“Yes, but I do.”

“Then please excuse me, for I have an old gentleman coming to pay me a visit.  The finest old gentleman, by the way, you ever saw!  A regular thoroughbred, Corinne—­who looks like a magnificent portrait!” he added in his effort to interest her.

“But let him come some other time,” she coaxed, holding the lapel of his coat, her eyes searching his.

“What, turn to the wall a magnificent old portrait!” This came with a mock grimace, his body bent forward, his eyes brimming with laughter.

“Be serious, Jack, and tell me if you think it very nice in you to stay upstairs in your den when I am giving a dance?  Everybody will know you are at home, and we haven’t enough men as it is.  Garry can’t come, he writes me.  He has to dine with some men at the club.”

“I really am sorry, Corinne, but I can’t this time.”  Jack had hold of her hand now; for a brief moment he was sorry he had not postponed Peter’s visit until the next day; he hated to cause any woman a disappointment.  “If it was anybody else I might send him word to call another night, but you don’t know Mr. Grayson; he isn’t the kind of a man you can treat like that.  He does me a great honor to come, anyhow.  Just think of his coming to see a boy like me—­and he so—­”

“Well, bring him downstairs, then.”  Her eyes began to flash; she had tried all the arts she knew—­they were not many—­but they had won heretofore.  “Mother will take care of him.  A good many of the girls’ fathers come for them.”