“The studio party?”

“The roof-garden party.  We’re going to have it from half-past six to half-past seven only, because then it won’t be too hot.  We shall only ask the people we like!  Gira Diable will come and dance for us, and Tilly will read something—­”

“That’s Unger Tillotson, the actor!” Nina interpolated, ecstatically.

“We’re not sure that we’ll let Francesca and Amy come,” Blondin pursued.  “Maybe we won’t let them know anything about it!  And everybody has to wear costumes, so that the picture won’t be spoiled.”

“He doesn’t like Amy and Francesca,” Nina confessed, with a guilty little laugh.

“Not at all.  I like them very much.”  Blondin’s languid, rich voice corrected her.  Nina shrank sensitively.  “I think they’re very charming little schoolgirls.  But I don’t want them for my friends!”

At this Nina blossomed like the rose.  Emotion choked her, and she looked down at her plate with a fluttering laugh.  This was irrefutable; before Miss Harriet and Ward and Granny, too.

“That’s what I meant!” she murmured, thickly.

“Why not have it at night, with lanterns?” Harriet said, quite involuntarily.  And again a pang of self-contempt swept over her.  It was hateful, it was incredible, but she was playing his game as calmly as if doubts and reluctance had never entered her heart.

“People won’t go to the city, summer evenings,” Royal explained, “but a great number are there in the afternoons.  And then twilight, over the city, and the bridges lighting up—­I assure you it’s like fairyland!”

“I wonder if I am to be invited to this party?” said Madame Carter, royally.  She had been watching this exchange of pleasantries with approval.

“You?  You’re the queen of the whole affair!” Royal assured her.  “You don’t have to costume unless you feel like it.”

“Oh, Granny’ll have the nicest there!” Nina predicted, gaily.  Her grandmother bridled complacently, although shaking a magnificent head.  Harriet knew that she would spend as much time upon her dress as the youngest and most beautiful woman who attended.

“Come,” said Madame Carter, brightly, “you didn’t think I was going to let you carry out this little plan without a chaperon!”

If there was a self-conscious second after this remark it was no more than a second.  Harriet’s quick colour rose, but before Nina’s nervous little laugh had died away Blondin said easily: 

“Ah, we’ll surround the Little Duchess with chaperons; I’m not going to be a party to her losing her heart anywhere around my diggings!”

“From what I said at luncheon, I hope you didn’t imagine that I thought there was anything—­well, in questionable taste, in your coming to Nina’s party!” said Madame Carter to Harriet an hour later, when the men had started on their long run back to camp, and she was about to go upstairs for her daily siesta.