defied a social boycott that had been active from the first?

He glanced back uncertainly at Lady Kitty, and she looked at him.

"Why are there no ladies?" she said, abruptly.

He collected his thoughts.

"It--it has always been a men's gathering. Perhaps for some men
here--I'm sorry there are such barbarians, Lady Kitty!--that makes the
charm of it. Look at that old fellow there! He is a most famous old
boy. Everybody invites him--but he never stirs out of his den but to
come here. My mother can't get him--though she has tried often."

And he pointed to a dishevelled, gray-haired gentleman, short in
stature, round in figure, something, in short, like an animated egg, who
was addressing a group not far off.

Lady Kitty's face showed a variety of expressions.

"Are there many parties like this in London? Are the ladies asked, and
don't come? I--I don't--understand!"

Ashe looked at her kindly.

"There is no other hostess in London as clever as your mother," he
declared, and then tried to change the subject; but she paid no heed.

"The other day, at Aunt Grosville's," she said, slowly, "I asked if my
two cousins might come to-night, and they looked at me as though I were
mad! Oh, <i>do</i> talk to me!" She came impulsively nearer, and Ashe noticed
that Darrell, standing against the doorway of communication, looked
round at them in amusement. "I liked your face--the very first moment
when I saw you across the room. Do you know--you're--you're very
handsome!" She drew back, her eyes fixed gravely, intently upon him.

For the first time Ashe was conscious of annoyance.

"I hope you won't mind my saying so"--his tone was a little short--"but
in this country we don't say those things. They're not--quite polite."

"Aren't they?" Her eyebrows arched themselves and her lips fell in
penitence. "I always called my French cousin, Henri la Fresnay, <i>beau!</i>
I am sure he liked it!" The accent was almost plaintive.

Ashe's natural impulse was to say that if so the French cousin must be
an ass. But all in a moment he found himself seized with a desire to
take her little hands in his own and press them--she looked such a
child, so exquisite, and so forlorn. And he did in fact bend forward
confidentially, forgetting Darrell.

"I want you to come and see my mother?" he said, smiling at her. "Ask
Lady Grosville to bring you."

"May I? But--" She searched his face, eager still to pour out the
impulsive, uncontrolled con