he chauffeur.

"You know I _was_ right, Pearce. Green suits her much better than
scarlet. In fact, I rather doubt whether you could point me out a case
in which I am ever wrong, Pearce. With regard to the motor, I mean, of
course."

"Oh no, sir."

"How do you mean 'Oh no'? Do you mean I'm ever wrong then?"

"Oh no, sir."

They both looked with suppressed pride at the automobile which was
snorting rather impatiently under these personal remarks.

Greenstock appeared.

"Will you step in, sir?"

At the summons Wilton sprang out and ran quickly up into the
drawing-room.

It was a beautiful room with hardly anything in it; a large, high, empty
room in pure First Empire style. A small yellow sofa with gilded claws,
and narrow bolster cushions, was near the fireplace; a light blue curved
settee, with animals' heads, was in the middle of the room. There was a
highly polished parquet floor with no carpet, a magnificent chandelier,
and the curtains were held up by elaborately carved and gilded cornices
with warlike ornaments.

Bertie wandered round the room, tried, vainly, to see himself in the
narrow looking-glass, which was placed too high, and admired the
refreshing absence of fat cushions, unnecessary draperies, photographs,
and vases of flowers. On a small console-table was one immense basket
of mauve orchids. Bertie was looking at this with some curiosity, not
unmixed with annoyance, when Felicity came into the room.

"How _marvellous_ of you!" he exclaimed. "Again I'm thunderstruck at
your having _exactly_ the right thing to wear, to come down early in the
morning to see a too persistent friend!" He looked at her dress. "Pale
green--how well it suits you; and how wonderful of you to be so
empireish--at this hour!"

"What _do_ you want, Bertie?" said Felicity, smiling, but impatiently.

"Oh, please don't be so definite! and I thought you knew!"

"Please don't be so imbecile; I don't want to know."

They both sat down, and she held out the letter.

"I didn't read all this," she said; "but you seem to have given me a
programme of your engagements for to-day. I can't think why."

"Because I want to know yours. To come to the point," said Wilton. "If I
go to the Ogilvies', will you be there?"

"Well, of course! As if Vera could have a musical afternoon without me!"

"Good, that's settled. And what are you doing to-night?"

"Well, which do you advise?" she said. "The Creepers'? Or Jasmyn Vere's
party?"