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Before Maurice could take up the implied challenge, which threw doubts upon his moral courage, Mrs. Dallas advanced heavily to meet her visitors. Isabella had already flitted like a white butterfly into the drawing-room, and her mother received the two young men alone. Her reception was, as usual, ponderous and vague. "And how many pounds are we nearer the scarlet-runner state of existence, Mrs. Molly?" he asked me before I had finished tying the blouse, in the nicest voice in the world, fairly cracking with friendship and good humour and hateful things like that. Why I should have wanted him to get huffy over that letter is more than I can say. But I did; and he didn't. "You don't mean?" began Patricia, incredulously. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, David Carson!" she cried, her big gray eyes alight and a pretty flush on her cheeks. "You'll simply kill yourself some day, that's what you'll do! Why can't you wait till it stops?".