'No--no--no; that wasn't it, dear; you've got the whole thing wrong--you've got hold of the wrong end of the stick. He--Mitchell, you know--mentioned to me the names of the people who were going to be asked to act, and among them, Miss Wrenner's name cropped up--I think he said Miss Wrenner was going to be asked to play the heroine if they could get her--no--I'm wrong, it was that _she_ had _asked_ to play the heroine, and that they meant to get out of it if they could. So, _then_, _I_ said, wouldn't she be surprised at having to play the principal part with a married man.' 'I see. _You_ said it, not Mitchell. Then are you playing the hero?' 'Good gracious! no--of course not. Is it likely that Mitchell, who's mad on acting and is getting up the whole thing himself, is jolly well going to let me play the principal part? Is it human nature? Of course it isn't. You can't expect it. I never said Mitchell was not human--did I?' 'What is your part, dear?' 'They're going to send it to me tomorrow--typewritten. It's not a long part, and not very important, apparently; but Mitchell says there's a lot to be got out of it by a good actor; sometimes one of these comparatively small parts will make the hit of the evening.' 'What sort of part is it?' 'Oh, no particular _sort_. I don't come on until the second act. As I told you, one of the chief points is to have a good appearance--look a gentleman; that sort of thing.' 'Well?' 'I come on in the second act, dressed as a mandarin.' 'A mandarin! Then you play the part of a Chinaman?' 'No, I don't. It's at the ball. In the second act, there's a ball on the stage--for the hero's coming of age--and I have to be a mandarin.' 'Is the ball given at the Chinese Embassy?' 'No; at the hero's country house. Didn't I tell you--it's a fancy ball!' 'Oh, I see! Then I shouldn't have thought it would have mattered so very much about whether you're good-looking or not. And Miss Wrenner--how will she be dressed at the fancy ball?' 'Miss Wrenner? Oh! Didn't I tell you--Miss Wrenner isn't going to act--they've got someone else instead.' CHAPTER XXVIII Anne Returns It was about six o'clock, and Hyacinth was sitting in her boudoir alone. It was a lovely room and she herself looked lovely, but, for a bride of four months, a little discontented. She was wondering why she was not happier. What was this unreasonable misery, this constant care, this anxious jealousy that seemed to poison her very existence? It was as intangible as a shadow, but it was always there. Hyacinth constantly felt that there was something in Cecil that escaped her, something that she missed. And yet he was kind, affectionate, even devoted.