R XI

"My dears," Lady Amesbury said, as she stood surrounded by her guests on
the hearth rug of her drawing-room, "you know what my Sunday night dinner
parties are--all sorts and plenty of them, and never a dull man or a
plain woman if I can help it. To-night I've got a new man. He's not much
to look at, but they tell me he's a multimillionaire and making all the
poor people of the country miserable. He's doing something about making
bread dearer. I never did understand these things."

"Heavens, you don't mean Peter Phipps!" Sarah exclaimed.

"His very name," her aunt declared. "How did you guess it, my dear? Here
he is. Be quiet, all of you, and watch Grover announce him. He's such a
snob--Grover. He hates a Mister, anyhow, and 'Peter Phipps' will
dislocate his tongue."

Lady Amesbury was disappointed. Grover had marched with the times, and
the presence of a millionaire made itself felt. His announcement was
sonorous and respectful. Mr. Peter Phipps made his bow to his hostess
under completely auspicious circumstances.

"So kind of you not to forget, Mr. Phipps," she murmured. "My Sunday
parties are always _viva voce_ invitations, and what between not
remembering whom I've asked, and not knowing whether those I've asked
will remember, I generally find it horribly difficult to arrange the
places. We are all right tonight, though. Only two missing. Who are
they, Sarah?"

"Josephine and Mr. Wingate," Sarah replied, with a covert glance
at Phipps.

"Of course! And thank goodness, here they are! Together, too! If there's
anything I love, it's to start one of my dinners with a scandal.
Josephine, did you bring Mr. Wingate or did he bring you?"

Josephine laughed. Then she saw Phipps standing in the background and she
raised her voice a little.

"Mr. Wingate called for me," she explained. "Taxis are so scarce in our
part of the world on Sunday nights, and when one does happen to know a
man who makes enough money on Friday to buy a fleet of motor-cars on
Saturday--"

"My doing," Kendrick interrupted. "I'm his broker. Did you buy the
Rolls-Royce, Wingate?"

"I brought it away with me, chauffeur and all."

"The most delightful car I ever rode in," Josephine pronounced.

Phipps manoeuvred his way to her side. There was a frown on his forehead
as he leaned towards her.

"So a Rolls-Royce is your favourite make of car, Lady Dredlinton,"
he remarked.

"Absolutely! I can't conceive of anything more comfortable.