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“Gerald wouldn’t understand a flirtation of his own,” criticised Ted. “I never saw a man who made such hard work of belonging to twelve clubs. Arly, how did you manage to make him see your fatal lure?”

“Mother did it,” returned Arly, drowsily absorbing the grateful warmth of the room.

“I don’t think anything is half so dangerous to a bachelor as a mother,” stated Lucile, with a friendly smile at Mrs. Davies.

“I’m going to start a new fad,” announced Arly, sitting up and considering the matter; “prudery. There’s nothing more effective.”

“It’s too wicked,” objected Lucile’s mother, and scored another point for herself. It was a wearing task to keep up a reputation for repartee.

“I’m terribly vexed,” confided Lucile, stopping behind Ted’s chair, and idly tickling the back of his neck. “I thought it would be such a brilliant scheme to give a winter week-end party, but Mrs. Acton is going to give one at her country place.”

“Before or after?” demanded Mrs. Davies, with whom this was a point of the utmost importance.