'You must wait. Wait and see. Really, it's impossible, my dear child, for you to accept an invitation for an elopement as if it were a luncheon-party. Not only that, it's good for Aylmer to be kept in doubt. Excellent for his health.' 'Really?' 'When I say his health, I mean the health and strength of his love for you. You must vacillate, Edith. Souvent femme varie. You sit on the fence, n'est-ce-pas? Well, offer the fence to him. But, take it away before he sits down. Voila!' Edith laughed. 'But then this girl, Miss Clay, she's always there. And I like her.' 'What is her nationality?' 'How funny you should ask that! I think she must be of Spanish descent. She's so quiet, so religious, and has a very dark complexion. And yet wonderful light blue eyes.' 'Quelle histoire! Qu'est-ce-que ca fait?' 'The poor girl is mad about Aylmer. He doesn't seem to know it, but he makes her worse by his indifference,' Edith said. 'Why aren't you jealous of her, ma chere? No, I won't ask you that--the answer is obvious.' 'I mean this, that if I can't ever do what he wishes, I feel she could make him happy; and I could bear it if she did.' 'Spanish?' said Landi, as if to himself. 'Ole! ole! Does she use the castanets, and wear a mantilla instead of a cap?' 'How frivolous and silly you are. No, of course not. She looks quite English, in fact particularly so.' 'And yet you insist she's Spanish! Well, my advice is this. If he has a secret alliance with Spain, you should assume the Balkan attitude.' 'Good gracious! What's that?' 'We're talking politics,' said Landi, across the table. 'Politics, and geography! Fancy, Meetchel, Mrs Ottley doesn't know anything about the Balkans!' 'Ha, very good,' said Mitchell. 'Capital. What a fellow you are!' He gave his hearty, clubbable laugh. Mr Mitchell belonged to an exceptionally large number of clubs and was a favourite at all. His laugh was the chief cause of his popularity there. 'Il est fou,' said Landi quietly to Edith. 'Quel monde! I don't think there are half-a-dozen sane people at this table.' 'Oh, Landi!' 'And if there are, they shouldn't by rights be admitted into decent society. But the dear Meetchels don't know that; it's not public. I adore them both,' he went on, changing his satirical tone, and again apparently drinking the health of Mrs Mitchell, who waved her hand coquettishly from the end of the long table. 'Now listen, my child. Don't see Aylmer for a little while.' 'He wants me to take him out for a drive.' 'Take him for a drive. But not this week. How Madame Frabelle loves Bruce!' he went on, watching her. 'Really, Landi, I assure you you're occasionally as mistaken as she is. And she thinks I'm in love with our host.' 'That's because _elle voit double_. I don't.' 'What makes you think....' 'I read between the lines, my dear--between the lines on Madame Frabelle's face.' 'She hasn't any.'