shman!"

To this the housemaid would reply--

"Foreigner or no foreigner, Miss Sylvia is no fool; and, mark my words,
she would look all right in that house in Grosvenor Square!"

These dark sayings silenced Price, but they did not succeed in chilling
his romantic enthusiasm, though the other servants took the more worldly
view. Much as they liked Woodville, it could not be forgotten that
Ridokanaki had the agreeable habit (at times practised by Jupiter with
so much success) of appearing invariably in a shower of gold.
Trillionaire though he was, no hard-up nobleman could be more lavish,
especially in small things. Nowadays the romance of wealth is more
fascinating than the romance of poverty, even in the servants' hall. And
Ridokanaki was not, as they remarked, like one of those mere parvenus
from South Africa or America. Belonging to an old Greek family of
bankers who had been wealthy for generations, he had recently made a
personal position that really counted in European politics. It had been
rumoured that he might have married into a Royal if not particularly
regal family. What he had done for Greece and England was hinted at, not
generally known.

Sylvia's impersonal attitude, so obviously genuine, was a refreshing
change to a man who had been for years invited with so much assiduity
and who knew that he was still regarded in London not without hope as a
splendid match. Surely, he would suddenly turn round, settle down, and
look for a refined and beautiful wife to be head of his house.

* * * * *

There was a feeling in the air that Sir James's party, with its White
Viennese Band, its celebrities, and general elaborate preparations, was
really intended to be a background for the declaration. Undoubtedly, he
would propose that night. All Sylvia thought about was, that she meant
to wear the grey chiffon dress that Woodville liked, and he would think
she looked pretty. She intended to conceal the little turquoise heart
that she had bought herself (_from him_) in the Brompton Road in her
dress, and to tell him about it afterwards.

To Felicity, the party was, like all entertainments, a kind of arena.
What is commonly called flirting, and what _she_ called bowling people
over, she regarded as a species of field-sport. Her heart might ache a
little under the Watteau-ish dress, because it appeared that nothing on
earth would induce darling Chetwode to return from Newmarket. When
Syl