I learned of your betrothal, gleaned all the information I could simply by eavesdropping. ’ It was a wait of several minutes while Melusine chafed. And a custom had grown up of a general tea at four o’clock, under the auspices of a Miss Garvice, a tall and graceful girl of distinguished intellectual incompetence, in whom the hostess instinct seemed to be abnormally developed. “You little wretch!” she exclaimed weakly. Fruit trees had been brought all the way from India so their product could be laden on the wedding table, fruits with exotic shapes and haunting flavors ended the meal, cleansing the palate. “Suppose you call me by my proper name,” she said quietly.
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