In the manner a stupid woman sometimes has of vexing unintentionally, poor Lady Lyons contrived to offend her a good deal. "Really, my dear, you cannot be grateful enough to that nice Sir Albert Gerald. But for him you and I would have had no supper, no dancing, and a very dull evening; and he hunted up a partner for you as well as dancing with you himself. I assure you he took a lot of trouble about it." "Mr. Powis asked to be introduced to me." "Did he, my dear? Why, what a humbug he must be! I heard him myself say to Sir Albert, '_I know too many girls already; do let me off!_' and Sir Albert said, 'Nonsense,' and walked him up to you, and then he pretended to wish it himself." "At any rate Sir Albert said, 'Mr. Powis would like to be introduced to you,'" and Grace was red with anger and mortification. "My dear, I think they always say that. I heard it said so often near me." Grace was silent. She had thought that this one man had been attracted by her, forgetting that in a great crowd there must be that undeniable _something_ to be at all noticed. Her next ball was a great mortification to her. She saw Mr. Powis, he asked her how she was, hoped she was better, and did _not_ ask her to dance; more than this, he expressed surprise at her coming to a ball again. "I should have thought you would have funked it, Miss Rivers. I shall feel quite nervous till I see you going home, you know." Grace was furious. She and poor Lady Lyons sat on unnoticed. They went away when they were tired and crept into the supper-room. All the servants of the establishment were drawn up in a phalanx in the hall in splendid liveries, and the supper--done by contract--was very bad, and the waiters worse. They sat very forlorn, getting no attention, and retreated, nearly worn out, and having the greatest difficulty in getting their carriage, none of the liveries choosing to face a drizzling rain and call it up. After standing very long in a terrible draught, some one asked the name, and "Lady Lyons's carriage, no servant!" was shouted up and down the street. Grace burst out laughing, but Lady Lyons, who saw nothing funny in any part of the evening's entertainment, subsided in a heap in the corner of the brougham and wept. In spite of this, Grace persisted in going to the few things offered her. "I cannot understand your caring for going out; you never meet a soul you know. Why do you go?" cried poor Lady Lyons at last. "I go because it is so good for me--and for you too." "So good for you! So good for me!" "Yes, it is a sort of penance for you, sitting there and not amusing yourself; and, as for me," said Grace, lightly, "after this I can never set too high a value on myself! It is mortification all round." "You say the oddest things." "I am glad I am original; and now, Lady Lyons, I want to arrange some business, and when that is done I want to go to Scotland, but I must finish my business first." "How long will it take?" asked Lady Lyons.