“You know, it’s a shame to eat this way—­ruin our dinners!” said Mrs. Moran, suddenly entering the conversation.  “Stop flirting with Greg, Rachael, and give me some more tea.  One lump, and only about half a cup, dear.  Tell me a good way to get thin, Greg!  Agnes Chase says her doctor has a diet—­you eat all you want, and you get thin.  Agnes says Lou has a friend who has taken off forty-eight pounds.  Do you believe it, Greg?  I’m too fat, you know—­”

“You carry it well, Judy,” said Rachael, still a little shaken by the abruptly closed conversation, as the doctor, with a conscious thrill, perceived.

“Thank you, my dear, that’s what they all say.  But I’d just as soon somebody else should carry it for awhile!”

“Listen, Rachael,” said their hostess, coming up suddenly, and speaking quickly and lightly, “Clarence is here.  Where in the name of everything sensible is Billy?”

“Clarence!” said Rachael, uncomfortable premonition clutching at her heart.

“Yes; you come and talk to him, Rachael,” Mrs. Whittaker said, in the same quick undertone.  “He’s all right, of course, but he’s just a little fussy—­”

“Oh, if he wouldn’t do these things!” Rachael said apprehensively as she rose.  “I left him all comfortable—­Joe Butler was coming in to see him!  It does exasperate me so!  However!”

“Of course it does, but we all know Clarence!” Mrs. Whittaker said soothingly.  “He seems to have got it into his head that Billy—­You go talk to him, Rachael, and I’ll send her in.”

“Billy’s doing no harm!  What did he say?” Rachael asked impatiently.

“Oh, nothing definite, of course.  But as soon as I said that Billy was here—­he’d asked if she was—­he said, ’Then I suppose Mr. Pickering is here, too!’”

“He’s the one person in the world afraid of talk about Billy, yet if he starts it, he can blame no one but himself!” Rachael said, as she turned toward the adjoining room.  An unexpected ordeal like this always annoyed her.  She was equal to it, of course; she could smooth Clarence’s ruffled feelings, keep a serene front to the world, and get her family safely home before the storm; she had done it many times before.  But it was so unnecessary!  It was so unnecessary to exhibit the Breckenridge weaknesses before the observant Emorys, before that unconscionable old gossip Peter Pomeroy, and to the cool, pitying gaze of all her world!

She found Clarence the centre of a small group in the long drawing-room.  He and Frank Whittaker were drinking cocktails; the others—­Jeanette Vanderwall, Vera Villalonga, a flushed, excitable woman older than Rachael, and Jimmy and Estelle Hoyt—­had refused the drink, but were adding much noise and laughter to the newcomer’s welcome.

“Hello, Clarence” Rachael said, appraising the situation rapidly as she came up.  “I would have waited for you if I had thought you would come!”