"It's no good, you know. It's dear of Adrienne to think of it, but
Baroni won't let me do it. He hasn't allowed me to sing anywhere this
last year."
"Doesn't want to take the cream off the milk, I suppose," said Jerry,
with a grin. "But, as a matter of fact, he _has_ given permission this
time. Miss de Gervais went to see him about it herself, and he's
consented. I've got a letter for you from the old chap"--producing it
as he spoke.
"Adrienne is a marvel," said Diana, as she slit the flap of the
envelope. "I'm sure Baroni would have refused any one else, but she
seems to be able to twist him round her little finger."
"Dear Mis Quentin"--Baroni had written in his funny, cramped
handwriting--"You may sing for Miss de Gervais. I have seen the list
of guests and it can do no harm--possibly a little good. Yours very
sincerely, CARLO BARONI."
"Miss de Gervais must have a 'way' with her," said Jerry meditatively.
"I observe that even my boss always does her bidding like a lamb."
Diana poured herself out a second cup of tea before she asked
negligently:--
"When's your 'boss' returning? It seems to me he's allowing you to
live the life of the idle rich. Will he be back for Adrienne's
reception?"
"No. About a week afterwards, I expect."
"Where's he been?"
"Oh, all over the shop--I've had letters from him from half the
capitals in Europe. But he's been in Russia longest of all, I think.
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