Kame appeared.

"Trixy asked me to get you," she explained. "Mr. Grainger and I are going
to lunch with you."

"How nice!" said Honora, with such a distinct emphasis of relief that
Mrs. Kame looked at her queerly.

"What a fool Trixy was, with all his experience, to get mixed up with
that Chandos woman," that lady remarked as they passed through the
hallway. "She's like molasses--one can never get her off. Lucky thing he
found Cecil and me here. There's your persistent friend, Trixy," she
added, when they were seated. "Really, this is pathetic, when an
invitation to lunch and a drive in your car would have made her so
happy."

Honora looked around and beheld, indeed, Mrs. Chandos and two other
Quicksands women, Mrs. Randall and Mrs. Barclay, at a table in the corner
of the room.

"Where's Bessie to-day, Cecil--or do you know?" demanded Mrs. Kame, after
an amused glance at Brent, who had not deigned to answer her. "I promised
to go to Newport with her at the end of the week, but I haven't been able
to find her."

"Cecil doesn't know," said Trixton Brent. "The police have been looking
for him for a fortnight. Where the deuce have you been, Cecil?"

"To the Adirondacks," replied Mr Grainger, gravely.

This explanation, which seemed entirely plausible to Honora, appeared to
afford great amusement to Brent, and even to Mrs. Kame.

"When did you come to life?" demanded Brent.

"Yesterday," said Mr. Grainger, quite as solemnly as before.

Mrs. Kame glanced curiously at Honora, and laughed again.

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Trixy," she said.

"Why?" he asked innocently. "There's nothing wrong in going to the
Adirondacks--is there, Cecil?"

"No," said Mr. Grainger, blinking rapidly.

"The Adirondacks," declared Mrs. Kame, "have now become classic."

"By the way," observed Mr. Grainger, "I believe Bessie's in town to-day
at a charity pow-wow, reading a paper. I've half a mind to go over and
listen to it. The white dove of peace--and all that kind of thing."

"You'd go to sleep and spoil it all," said Brent.

"But you can't, Cecil!" cried Mrs. Kame. "Don't you remember we're going
to Westchester to the Faunces' to spend the night and play bridge? And we
promised to arrive early."

"That's so, by George," said Mr. Grainger, and he drank the rest of his
whiskey-and-soda.

"I'll tell you what I'll do, if Mrs. Spence is willing," suggested Brent.
"If you start right after lunch, I'll take you out.