ther's message, not stiffly, but with voice and
face a little vacant of expression, lacking interest. He asked the
Crevequers to come to lunch to-morrow at Parker's Hotel. Mrs. Venables
had not been aware of Betty, but Warren supposed that her existence
would add a further element of picturesque interest to the 'impression.'
The invitation was accepted. Venables stayed a little longer,
and examined the ceiling, and discovered incidentally that the
Crevequers--probably by the sheer insane futility of their stammering
flow--had the power of pricking him at all points to sudden laughter.

He considered it walking home. In his search for Tommy Crevequer he had
happened upon a man--he kept a billiard saloon--who knew him rather
well. His remarks, entirely friendly (he was really fond of Tommy),
conveyed to Venables several items of information about him; among
others, that Venables would at no time have any difficulty in finding
him, as a good many people thought it prudent to keep him under view. At
the same time, Tommy's acquaintances seemed to assume as a matter of
course that he might find an occasional plunge into obscurity a
convenience. These casually conveyed impressions Venables had
assimilated without surprise. As he would have said, one knew the sort.
And Venables liked people who amused him.

But _Marchese Peppino_ stuck in his throat.

Betty observed to Tommy:

'What fun. We shall probably forget to go. But if we don't, we shall
have to eat so much that we shan't need any more for a week. How
economical! Lunch in England--do you remember, Tommy?'

Tommy was thinking.

'Betty, we don't dress well enough. I want a new hat; so do you.
Venables is better dressed than we are. We must be tidy, and cut a dash
at lunch. It's a mistake not to be well dressed; people are so
prejudiced. I shall wear a collar to-morrow--a quite clean one, like
Venables. And we won't have any supper to-night, because we shall have
to eat too much at lunch. And I suppose Mrs. Venables will talk about
father's books, as she's so interested; so let's read them.'

'Perhaps,' said Betty, 'we'd better read her own works too; only I don't
feel sure they'd be quite nice, so I think we'll wait till we're
older--thirty-two and thirty-three. We can tell her if she asks that we
read so little that we have to be very careful about what we read. It
would be so disappointing to read a book we didn't like; she'll
understand that.'

CHAPTER I