wants to speak to you very particularly."

"Mr. Wyse himself?" asked Diva, hardly believing her ears, for she knew
Mr. Wyse's opinion of the telephone.

"Yes, ma'am."

Diva walked slowly, but reflected rapidly. What must have happened was
that somebody had been taken ill at the last moment--was it
Elizabeth?--and that he now wanted her to fill the gap.... She was torn
in two. Passionately as she longed to dine at Mr. Wyse's, she did not
see how such a course was compatible with dignity. He had only asked her
to suit his own convenience; it was not out of encouragement to hope
that he invited her now. No; Mr. Wyse should want. She would say that
she had friends dining with her; that was what the true lady would do.

She took up the ear-piece and said, "Hullo!"

It was certainly Mr. Wyse's voice that spoke to her, and it seemed to
tremble with anxiety.

"Dear lady," he began, "a most terrible thing has happened----"

(Wonder if Elizabeth's very ill, thought Diva.)

"Quite terrible," said Mr. Wyse. "Can you hear?"

"Yes," said Diva, hardening her heart.

"By the most calamitous mistake the note which I wrote you yesterday was
never delivered. Figgis has just found it in the pocket of his overcoat.
I shall certainly dismiss him unless you plead for him. Can you hear?"

"Yes," said Diva excitedly.

"In it I told you that I had been encouraged to hope that you would dine
with me to-night. There was such a gratifying response to my other
invitations that I most culpably and carelessly, dear lady, thought that
everybody had accepted. Can you hear?"

"Of course I can!" shouted Diva.

"Well, I come on my knees to you. Can you possibly forgive the joint
stupidity of Figgis and me, and honour me after all? We will put dinner
off, of course. At what time, in case you are ever so kind and indulgent
as to come, shall we have it? Do not break my heart by refusing.
Su--Mrs. Poppit will send her car for you."

"I have already dressed for dinner," said Diva proudly. "Very pleased to
come at once."

"You are too kind; you are angelic," said Mr. Wyse. "The car shall start
at once; it is at my door now."

"Right," said Diva.

"Too good--too kind," murmured Mr. Wyse. "Figgis, what do I do next?"

Diva clapped the instrument into place.

"Powder," she said to herself, remembering what she had seen in the
glass, and whizzed upstairs. Her fish would have to be degraded into
kedgeree, though plaice would have done just a