Oh, they fell for it all right! I poured myself another cup of tea to hide the triumph in my face. Little idiots! If he was sick of Toots he'd hate everything that reminded him of her. I could see the crowd of them swaggering in at the next party, in their best imitation of Toots Warrington, with eyes slightly narrowed, and earrings. And I could see Russell's soul turn over in revolt and go out and take a walk. I knew a lot about men even then, but not enough. I know more now. II That night Henry Baring came to call. Being a sort of family friend he had a way of walking in unexpectedly, with a box of candy for whoever saw him first. If mother and I were out, he played chess with father. If there was no one in, he was quite likely to range round the lower floor, and ask the butler about his family, and maybe read for an hour or so in the library. The servants adored him, but he was matrimonially impossible. That night he came. I was at home alone. "You will take two full days' rest after your ball," mother had said. "I have seen enough débutantes looking ready for the hospital the first week they came out." So I was alone that evening, and mother and father had gone to a dinner. I was sulky, I don't mind saying. At six o'clock a box of flowers had come, but they were only from Henry and not exciting. "Thought I'd send them to-day," he wrote on his card. "Didn't like the idea of my personal offering nailed to the club wall." About nine o'clock I put on my silk dressing gown and went down to the library for the book about the girl who always had her hand in the man's coat pocket. I had got clear in when I saw Henry's red head over the top of a deep chair. "Come in!" he called. "I was told there was no one at home, but methinks I know the step and the rustle." "Don't look round," I said sharply. "I'm not dressed." "Can't you stay a few minutes?" "Certainly not." "If I don't look?" Well, it seemed silly to run. I was more covered up than I'd been the night before in my ball gown. Besides, it had occurred to me that Henry could be useful if he would. A sort of plan had popped into my head. Inspiration, I called it then. "Pretty nice last night, wasn't it?" he asked, talking to the fireplace. "You looked some person, Kit, believe me." "Considering that I've spent nineteen years getting ready, it should have gone off rather well." "I suppose I'll never see you any more." "This looks like it! Why?" "You'll be so popular." "Oh, that! I'm not sure, Henry. I'm not beautiful." He jumped at that, and almost turned round. "Not beautiful!" he said. "You're--you're the loveliest thing that ever lived, and you know it." It began to look to me as if he wouldn't help after all. There was a sort of huskiness in his voice, a--Oh, well, you know. I began on the plan, however. "You'll see me, all right," I said. "I'll have other friends, of course. I hope so anyhow. But when one thinks who and what they are----"