"That's fine, my dear," said the older woman with an inward sigh of relief that that was over. "Do you mind if Mrs. Hurd and I drive around again to-morrow afternoon at this time and talk our plans over with you?"
"Do by all means. But won't you stay and have a cup of tea now?" Carmelita tried not to make her invitation too eager. Mrs. Peabody had risen and Carmelita made a move to detain her by pressing the bell for the butler. "No, thank you, Mrs. Drake," Mrs. Peabody smiled. "We must really be hurrying along now. To-morrow perhaps."
So Carmelita rose reluctantly with them. Both shook hands warmly with her and she stood, a graceful, cool picture, leaning lightly against a pillar of the porch, watching the chauffeur touch the starter and slowly roll her famous guests away. She was a little disappointed because they had not invited her to one of their homes for the conference the next afternoon. What were those homes like, she fell to wondering—safe, protected, like her childhood home in Buenos Aires but without its coldness? Could she be happy in such a serene, unruffled environment, growing old according to a fixed, polite routine? She feared not.
Since he was evidently to take such a prominent part in the coming events, Carmelita in-
