“Indeed I will: I long for your conversion to Luciaphilism. Now to-day there are going to be marvellous happenings. You see Lucia has got a lover----” “Quite absolutely impossible!” said Marcia firmly. “Oh, don’t interrupt. Of course he is only an official lover, a public lover, and his name is Stephen Merriall. A perfect lady. Now Pepino, Lucia’s husband, was coming down with her to-day, but he’s got a very bad cold and has put me off. I’m rather glad: Lucia has got more--more dash when he’s not there. So I’ve asked her lover instead----” “No!” said Marcia. “Go on.” “My dear, they are much better than any play I have ever seen. They do it beautifully: they give each other little glances and smiles, and then begin to talk hurriedly to someone else. Of course, they’re both as chaste as snow, chaster if possible. I think poor Babs’s case put it into Lucia’s head that in this naughty world it gave a _cachet_ to a woman to have the reputation of having a lover. So safe too: there’s nothing to expose. They only behave like lovers strictly in public. I was terrified when it began that Mr. Merriall would think she meant something, and try to kiss her when they were alone, and so rub the delicate bloom completely off, but I’m sure he’s tumbled to it.” “How perfect!” said Marcia. “Isn’t it? Aren’t you feeling more Luciaphil? I’m sure you are. You must enjoy her: it shows such a want of humour to be annoyed with her. And really I’ve taken a great deal of trouble to get people she will revel in. There’s the Prime Minister, there’s you, there’s Greatorex the pianist who’s the only person who can play Stravinski, there’s Professor Bonstetter the psycho-analyst, there’s the Italian Ambassador, there’s her lover, there’s Tony.... I can’t go on. Oh, and I must remember to tell her that Archie Singleton is Babs’s brother, or she may say something dreadful. And then there are lots who will revel in Lucia, and I the foremost. I’m devoted to her; I am really, Marcia. She’s got character, she’s got an iron will, and I like strong talkative women so much better than strong silent men.” “Yes, she’s got will,” said Marcia. “She determined to come to my ball, and she came. I allow I gave her the chance.” “Those are the chances that come to gifted people,” said Adele. “They don’t come to ordinary people.” “Suppose I flirted violently with her lover?” said Marcia. Adele’s eyes grew bright with thought. “I can’t imagine what she would do,” she said. “But I’m sure she would do something that scored. Otherwise she wouldn’t be Lucia. But you mustn’t do it.” “Just one evening,” said Marcia. “Just for an hour or two. It’s not poaching, you see, because her lover isn’t her lover. He’s just a stunt.” Adele wavered. “It would be wonderful to know what she would do,” she said. “And it’s true that he’s only a stunt.... Perhaps for an hour or two to-morrow, and then give him back.” * * * * *