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He drove rather more slowly than
was his custom, and so missed Marion's invitation to get there
before the crowd.
Three cars before the house showed that she already had callers,
and indeed when the parlor-maid opened the door a burst of laughter
greeted him. The Hayden house was a general rendezvous. There
were usually, by seven o'clock, whiskey-and-soda glasses and
tea-cups on most of the furniture, and half-smoked cigarets on
everything that would hold them, including the piano.
Marion herself met him in the hall, and led him past the
drawing-room door.
"There are people in every room who want to be left alone," she
volunteered. "I kept the library as long as I could. We can sit
on the stairs, if you like."
Which they proceeded to do, quite amiably. From various open doors
came subdued voices. The air was pungent with tobacco smoke
permeated with a faint scent of late afternoon highballs.
"Tommy!" Marion called, when she had settled herself.
"Yes," from a distance.


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