Then-- "Thank you very much," he said quietly.

"I shall be delighted." "We dine at an unearthly hour to-night, of course," volunteered Penelope.

"Half-past six." "As I contrived to miss my lunch to-day, I shan't grumble," replied Peter, smiling.

"Till to-night, then." And the Fentons' motor slid away into the lamplit dusk.
"Wasn't that rather rash of you, Ralph ?" asked Penelope later on, when they were both dressing for the evening.

"I think--last summer--Peter was getting too fond of Nan for his own peace of mind." Ralph came to the door of his dressing-room in his shirt-sleeves, shaving-brush in hand.
"Good Lord, no!" he said.