"I shan't need it in New York."
"Oh, won't you? That's where you're mistaken! There'll be lots of
times when you'd rather have it than the grandest opera cloak."
"I shan't need an opera cloak, either."
Peter was still smiling, though less confident of the old friendly
understanding which had given them a language of their own with words
which would have been nonsense for others.
"We'll see. Anyhow, I shall ask you to go to the very first
worth-while opera that comes along. Consider it a formal invitation."
"Very well, I will, and answer it formally. 'Miss Child thanks Mr.
Rolls for his kind invitation, and regrets that a previous engagement
makes it impossible for her to accept.'"
"By Jove, that does sound formal enough! How do you know you'll have a
previous engagement?"
"I'm perfectly certain I shall."
This was the real thing! There was no joke in the bottom of the
medicine glass.
Peter's face grew red, like a scolded schoolboy's. Winifred (who was
looking at Miss Carroll's trunk, but saw only Mr. Rolls) thought that
he was going to speak out angrily, and perhaps give her a glimpse of
his black heart. She hoped he would, for it would have been a relief;
but he did not.
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