For Gracie has long been wondering why Arthur has not come; she has looked forward to her “coming out” chiefly that she might see our hero every day once more. Derwent goes to her at once. “I have just left a friend of yours lamenting that he cannot get here sooner,” says he. “Holyoke was positively savage that he was kept so long down town.” It was a white lie, I know; yet few men would have been at the pains to tell it. And Gracie smiles once more; and the burly, blond-bearded man stays by her, like some comforting, protecting power. But he seems destined to annoy his friends that afternoon; for Charlie Townley finds him near by, too, and with quite other feelings. Charlie was there early enough, you may be sure; and he is sitting with pretty Mamie Livingstone on a sofa just behind them. And Birmingham, I fear, is cursing Derwent too; such a knack have fanatics of making themselves disagreeable! For every time he makes a pretty compliment to Miss Farnum--and pretty compliments are slow and heavy things for our peer of the realm to struggle with--it seems as if his beautiful companion caught Derwent’s eye. And the beauty is, even to the Briton’s eye, a bit unconscious of his fine speeches; and looks about her as if she too were looking for some other swain. Only Mrs. Gower and Wemyss seem to have escaped; but they are sitting by a certain screen in the tea-room and fancy themselves unseen; so they are, indeed, save by the eyes of some old dowagers--the same who had called upon her the day of the drive--barbed by a touch of malice to a keener sight than even “that damned adventurer’s,” as Birmingham calls him. But Pussie De Witt is there, in a gorgeous dress her novel matronhood permits her, perfectly happy yet; and Kill Van Kull, her partner, manages to get his amusement out of all the world and everywheres. Then Derwent takes his seat by Mamie, calmly turning Charlie’s flank. So the Wall Street knight has to retreat; and Derwent flirts most desperately, so that her little head--heart--what shall I say? is tickled. And it is very late when Arthur comes, and he finds that Gracie has gone up-stairs with a headache; so that he is angrier than ever. But the dinner that night is a great success. Everybody came--except Van Kull, which is, indeed, a little of a disappointment--and the wines and cooking are most excellent. A great success, that is, until Wemyss, most unfortunately, began to talk of American families. Some one said something about Kitty Farnum, and what a fine woman she was, and what a pity it was that her people was so ordinary. “Pooh!” says his lordship, “all your Yankee families are just alike.”