"And who," said Chetwode, "may I ask, put it into your head to wear an
entirely gold dress with your golden hair?"

She hesitated half a second.

"Oh! not the dressmaker? and it wasn't your own idea? I can only think
of one other person. Do congratulate Wilton from me on his success as a
designer."

"Chetwode! if I did ask him to design it, it was so that you should be
pleased with the dress."

He smiled. "Quite so. And I am."

"Oh, won't you come and fetch me?"

"It's quite impossible. How late shall you stay?"

"I'll come back just when you like."

"Oh, enjoy yourself, dear. I'm going to stop at home."

He seemed to have regained the equanimity that for a moment he seemed to
have lost.

Driving along, Felicity thought, "Perhaps if Chetwode _could_ be a shade
jealous of Bertie, it might be a good thing. Still, that sort of thing
is so commonplace. _We_ oughtn't to have to descend to it."

Surely Chetwode, who never went by the opinion of others, who absolutely
judged for himself, and for whom general success by no means raised the
value of his choice, could not care a shade more for his wife because
she was admired by Wilton, and would care less for her if he did not
think her incapable of admiring any one but himself.

"Are any of those eternal vulgar theories about love really ever true?"
thought Felicity. Then wasn't Chetwode superior? Of course he was. That
was why she loved him, and in wishing him to be an ordinary jealous
man, she was wishing him to descend. However, when "Faute des roses"
greeted her (exquisitely played by the Hungarians), and she was sitting
in a bower of roses in her gold dress, with her respectfully worshipping
and delightfully amusing Bertie, Felicity forgot her anxiety and
thoroughly enjoyed herself. She was made much of, and admired; the
homage was intoxicating, she was young, and she imprudently gave every
one present the impression that she was flirting desperately with Bertie
Wilton.

CHAPTER XIX

THE VELVET CASE

Savile, remembering that Chetwode had told him he was going away for 'a
week end for ten days', and that Felicity had said he was going away for
three days, went to see his sister. He had not received the promised
wire from Chetwode, but instead a cordial invitation to lunch at the
Savoy, in the course of which he told Savile that the whole thing had
been laid before Teignmouth; that Teignmouth was slow but sure; that he
was frightfully keen on