Excerpt: ...that's nine. You don't know how quick that stuff goes when you make it." "We'll use this bowl, " she insisted. "It'll hold plenty. You know how Tom is." Tom Lowrie, husband to Jessie, Harold's first cousin, was rather inclined to finish anything in a liquid way that he began. Harold shook his head. "Don't be foolish. That one holds only about three quarts and there's nine of us, and the servants'll want some-and it isn't strong punch. It's so much more cheerful to have a lot, Evie, we don't have to drink all of it." "I say the small one." Again he shook his head obstinately. "No, be reasonable." "I am reasonable, " she said shortly. "I don't want any drunken men in the house." "Who said you did?" "Then use the small bowl." "Now, Evie--" He grasped the smaller bowl to lift it back. Instantly her hands were on it, holding it down. There was a momentary struggle, and then, with a little exasperated grunt, he raised his side, slipped it from her fingers, and carried it to the sideboard. She looked at him and tried to make her expression contemptuous, but he only laughed. Acknowledging her defeat but disclaiming all future interest in the punch, she left the room. III At seven-thirty, her cheeks glowing and her high-piled hair gleaming with a suspicion of brilliantine, Evylyn descended the stairs. Mrs. Ahearn, a little woman concealing a slight nervousness under red hair and an extreme Empire gown, greeted her volubly. Evelyn disliked her on the spot, but the husband she rather approved of. He had keen blue eyes and a natural gift of pleasing people that might have made him, socially, had he not so obviously committed the blunder of marrying too early in his career. "I'm glad to know Piper's wife, " he said simply. "It looks as though your husband and I are going to see a lot of each other in the future." She bowed, smiled graciously, and turned to greet the others: Milton Piper, Harold's quiet, unassertive younger brother, the two...