"
"Mixed parties?"
"Not at the beginning, anyhow."
"Oh; bachelor's hall."
"About that."
Foster readjusted his shade, and drove his needles into his ball of yarn.
"Complete new outfit?"
"Well, I have some things in storage."
"How about the people you're with now?"
"Their lease is up in the spring. They may go on; they may not. Fall's the
time to change."
Foster drew out his needles again and fell to work.
"You ought to have seen Hortense the next morning. She put my tray on the
table, and then went down in a heap on the floor--or it sounded like that.
She was fainting away at dinner, she said."
"She found it amusing?"
"I don't know _how_ she found it," returned Foster shortly. "If ever
_I_ do anything like that at your house, run me home."
"Not if it's raining. I shall be able to tuck you away somewhere."
"Don't. I never asked to be a centre of interest."
"Well," returned Randolph merely, and fell silent.
Foster resumed work with some excess of vigor, and presently got into a
snarl. "Dammit!" he exclaimed, "have I dropped another?"
Randolph leaned over to examine the work.
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