She had put on this particular gown, remembering that Ian Stafford had said charming things about that other blue gown just before he bade her good-bye three years ago.

That was why she wore blue this night--to recall to Ian what it appeared he had forgotten.

And presently she would dine alone with Ian in her husband's house--and with her husband's blessing.

Pique and pride were in her heart, and she meant Ian Stafford to remember.

No man was adamantine; at least she had never met one--not one, neither bishop nor octogenarian.
"Come, Ruddy, you must dress, or you'll be late," she continued, lightly, touching his cheek with her fingers; "and you'll come down and apologize, and put me right with Ian Stafford, won't you ?" "Certainly.