“Do you expect to be forgiven?” she asked. “No, no,” said I; “I had too good an excuse.” “I wish I’d been there--at the reception, I mean.” “I’m extremely glad you weren’t, Lady Mickleham. As it was I forgot all my troubles.” Dolly is not resentful; she did not mind the implied description. She leant back, smiling still. I sighed again, smiled at Dolly, and took my hat. Then I turned to the mirror over the mantelpiece, arranged my necktie, and gave my hair a touch. “No one,” I observed, “can afford to neglect the niceties of the toilet. Those dainty little curls on the forehead--” “You’ve had none there for ten years,” cried Lady Mickleham. “I did not mean my forehead,” said I. Sighing once again, I held out my hand to Dolly. “Are you doing anything this evening?” she asked. “That depends on what I’m asked to do,” said I cautiously. “Well, Archie’s going to be at the House, and I thought you might take me to the Phaetons’ party. It’s quite a long drive, a horrible long drive, Mr. Carter.” I stood for a moment considering this proposal. “I don’t think,” said I, “that it would be proper.” “Why, Archie suggested it! You’re making an excuse. You know you are!” and Lady Mickleham looked very indignant. “As if,” she added scornfully, “you cared about what was proper!” I dropped into a chair, and said, in a confidential tone, “I don’t care a pin. It was a mere excuse. I don’t want to come.” “You’re very rude, indeed. Many women would never speak to you again.” “They would,” said I, “all do just as you will.” “And what’s that, Mr. Carter.” “Ask me again on the first opportunity.” “Why won’t you come?” said Dolly, waiving this question. I bent forward, holding my hat in my left hand and sawing the air with my right forefinger. “You fail to allow,” said I impressively, “for the rejuvenescence which recent events have produced in me. If I came with you this evening, I should be quite capable--” I paused. “Of anything dreadful?” asked Dolly. “Of paying you pronounced attentions,” said I gravely. “That,” said Dolly with equal gravity, “would be very regrettable. It would be unjust to me--and very insulting to her, Mr. Carter.” “It would be the finest testimonial to her,” I cried. “And you’ll spend the evening thinking of her?” asked Dolly. “I shall go through the evening,” said I, “in the best way I can.” And I smiled contentedly. “What’s her husband?” asked Dolly suddenly. “Her husband,” I rejoined, “is nothing at all.” Dolly, receiving this answer, looked at me with a pathetic air. “It’s not quite fair,” she observed. “Do you know what I’m thinking about, Mr. Carter?” “Certainly I do, Lady Mickleham. You are thinking that you would like to meet me for the first time.” “Not at all. I was thinking that it would be amusing if you met me for the first time.”