“My dear, she’s marvellous,” she said to Aggie. “She’s a study. She’s cosmic. The telephone, the curtsey! I’ve never seen the like. But why in the name of wonder didn’t she tell us who the Highness was? She wasn’t shy of talking about the other folk she’d met. Alf and Marcelle and Marcia and Bertie. But she made a mistake over Bertie. She shouldn’t have said ‘Bertie.’ I’ve known Herbert Alton for years, and never has anybody called him anything but Herbert. ‘Bertie’ was a mistake, but don’t tell her. I adore your Lucia. She’ll go far, mark my words, and I bet you she’s talking of me as Adele this moment. Don’t you see how wonderful she is? I’ve been a climber myself and I know. But I was a snail compared to her.” Aggie Sandeman was rather vexed at not being asked to the Alf party. “You needn’t tell me how wonderful she is,” she observed with some asperity. “It’s not two months since she came to London first, and she didn’t know a soul. She dined with me the first night she came up, and since then she has annexed every single person she met at my house.” “She would,” said Adele appreciatively. “And who was the man who looked as if he had been labelled ‘Man’ by mistake when he was born, and ought to have been labelled ‘Lady’? I never saw such a perfect lady, though I only know him as Stephen at present. She just said, ‘Stephen, do you know Lady Brixton?’” “Stephen Merriall,” said Aggie. “Just one of the men who go out to tea every day--one of the unattached.” “Well then, she’s going to attach him,” said Adele. “Dear me, aren’t I poisonous, when I’m going to her house to meet Alf next week! But I don’t feel poisonous; I feel wildly interested: I adore her. Here we are at the theatre: what a bore! And there’s Tony Limpsfield. Tony, come and help me out. We’ve been lunching with the most marvellous----” “I expect you mean Lucia,” said Tony. “I spent Sunday with her at Riseholme.” “She curtsied to the telephone,” began Adele. “Who was at the other end?” asked Tony eagerly. “That’s what she didn’t say,” said Adele. “Why not?” asked Tony. Adele stepped briskly out of her car, followed by Aggie. “I can’t make out,” she said. “Oh, do you know Mrs. Sandeman?” “Yes, of course,” said Tony. “And it couldn’t have been Princess Isabel.” “Why not? She met her at Marcia’s last night.” “Yes, but the Princess fled from her. She fled from her at Riseholme too, and said she would never go to her house. It can’t have been she. But she got hold of that boxer----” “Alf Watson,” said Adele. “She called him Alf, and I’m going to meet him at her house on Thursday.” “Then it’s very unkind of you to crab her, Adele,” said Tony. “I’m not: I’m simply wildly interested. Anyhow, what about you? You spent a Sunday with her at Riseholme.” “And she calls you Tony,” said Aggie vituperatively, still thinking about the Alf party.