Lady Mildred was good-natured enough never to cross the plans or pleasures of her friends unless they interfered with hers; indeed, she would further them as far as was consistent with her own credit and convenience; but even in her benevolence some malice was mingled. She was rather glad to give Grenvil an opportunity of following out his love-dream, especially as she felt certain no harm would come of it; but, in mentioning to him the expected guests, she had purposely omitted the Brabazons. Bertie had been indulging in an ante-prandial siesta, and only came down the great staircase as the others were filing past in to dinner; he was in time to see Maud Brabazon sweep by, more insolently beautiful, he thought, than ever. She just deigned to acknowledge his presence with the slightest bend of her delicate neck, and the sauciest of smiles. That wily Cherub could feign innocence right well when it served his wicked ends; but only one visible sign _really_ remained to testify that he had once been guileless--perhaps it was a mere accident of complexion--he had not forgotten how to change colour. Lady Mildred watched the meeting. She saw Bertie's cheek flush--brightly as a girl's might do who hears the first love-whisper--and then grow pale almost to the lips. "My lady" laughed under her breath, in calm appreciative approbation, just as some scientific patron of the Arena may have laughed, when the net of the Retiarius glided over the shoulders of the doomed Secutor. Any one interested in such psychological studies--and, to some people, a really well-managed flirtation is a very interesting and instructive spectacle--would have been much amused that evening watching the "passages" of Bertie's love. It was rather a one-sided affair, after all; for the Cherub was so hard hit as to forget his cunning of fence, and timidity for once was not in the least assumed. The lady was thoroughly at her ease, as women ever are who play that perilous game with their head instead of their heart. Maud Brabazon was just on the shady side of thirty; but such a pleasant shade it was! The sunniest year in the lives of her many rivals looked dull and tame by comparison. She was rather below the middle height, and rather fuller in her proportions than was consistent with perfection of form; but no one was ever heard to hint that her figure could have been improved upon. Large bright brown eyes were matched by soft abundant hair of a darker shade; a slightly aquiline nose, a delicately chiselled _mutine_ mouth, and the ripest of peach-complexions, made up a picture that every one found fascinating, many fatally so.