"If I might advise, _do_ go there. His things are really rather jolly.
Is Chetwode coming?"

"No, Chetwode's struck. He won't go to anything more. He's going away on
Saturday for the week end, so I shall stop at home with him to-morrow.
To-night I'll go to Jasmyn Vere's. What time does one get there?"

"One gets there a little before you do, for the pleasure of the anxiety
and agonising suspense of dreading you won't come and knowing you will."
He got up. "If you would turn up at half-past ten--before the crush--we
could sort of sit out, and laugh at the people."

"Perhaps I shall," said Felicity.

"Lady Chetwode, you are as good as you are beautiful."

"Oh, don't carry on like that, Bertie! I suppose it's through your
having gone to that ball as Louis XIX; every now and then you seem to
think you're in the last century."

"But when I'm here, I know I'm in the next," and he took his leave in
the highest spirits.

* * * * *

At lunch, "Chetwode," said Felicity, "I shall be at Vera's till seven.
They're going to have the wonderful new child harpist. He looks like a
sort of cherub, with golden hair."

"Little beast," said Chetwode, "he ought to be in bed."

"Oh, darling, not at four in the afternoon! And what about to-night? I
suppose we dine together at home? and then I'm going to Jasmyn Vere's,
one of his musical parties."

"Oh, yes."

"Chetwode dear, you know the horses will be out all the afternoon. I
thought I'd have the carriage just to _take_ me to the party and come
home in a cab--it's only round the corner. Is there any off-chance of
your coming to fetch me? Oh _do_! You really might!"

"No," said Chetwode. He added, "No doubt Wilton will see you home."

She looked up quickly. Was there a tone of irony in his voice? Could he
be a shade jealous? How delightful!

"Why, I can come home alone," she said. "It's not sure that Bertie and I
will both want to leave at the same time."

"But I should think it's on the cards," said Chetwode, rather coldly.

"No use bothering you to come?"

"None at all. Who does the hostess at Jasmyn's parties?"

"Oh, Bertie's mother, Lady Nora Wilton, you know."

"I see."

"Did you think," said Felicity, laughing, "that it would be Agatha, Mrs.
Wilkinson?"

"Oh--you mean the woman who's so fond of horses. Why, is she a friend of
Vere's?"

"Some people say so, of course I don't know."

"I always see her," said Chetwode, "at race