"Good afternoon, Mr. Secretary," she cried, as he entered. "I was beginning to think you'd not forgiven me for leaving you in the lurch last night." "Don't speak of it, I beg," he said, hastening to deprecate her apologies. "I should have called to enquire the first thing this morning." "You should most certainly, and I ought to tax you with base desertion," she went on. "That would be impossible, but I'm a victim of stern necessity. Society demands all my spare time, and I'm forced, as one always is in London, to neglect my friends for my acquaintances." "You deserve a thorough rating, and if it were not for my duties as hostess, I'd give it to you here and now." "I claim the protection of your hearth," he rejoined, laughing. "Oh! But it's such a tiny hearth," she remonstrated. "And I," he added, "am such an insignificant personage." "I won't have you run yourself down in that way. I believe you are a great social lion. Come, confess, how many teas have you been to in the last seven days?" "Fifty-six." "Good gracious! How do you men stand it, and having something to eat and a cup of tea at every place?" "Shall I enlighten you as to the professional secrets of the habitual tea-goer? We don't." "But surely you can't always refuse." "I never refuse. I always accept the cup--and put it down somewhere." "For another guest to knock over. You're a hardened reprobate, but this time you shall not escape. You know Miss Campbell, who is pouring tea for me this afternoon? No? Then I'll introduce you. Miss Campbell, this is Secretary Stanley, a member of the Diplomatic Corps, who has just confessed to me that he habitually eludes the trustful hostess and the proffered tea. You'll give him a cup and see that he drinks it before he leaves the room," and the vivacious little woman departed, leaving him no alternative but to accept his fate meekly. "How do you like your tea?" inquired Miss Campbell, a young lady deft of hand, but with few ideas. "Lemon and no sugar." "How nasty! But then, I forgot you never really drink it, Lady Rainsford says. But this time----" "This time," he replied, "I'm a lamb led to the slaughter." Miss Campbell said, "Really?" Then there followed an awkward silence. Looking around for some means of escape, he saw a face in the crowd, that caused him to start, so utterly unexpected and out of place did it seem, considering what he had heard that afternoon. It was the face of Colonel Darcy. He did not think the man knew him, and for obvious reasons he did not care to be introduced; so he turned again to Miss Campbell, who, seeing no alternative, rose to the occasion and continued the conversation by remarking:-- "Is it true that you go to such an enormous number of teas? What do you find to talk about?" "Oh, I don't find much. I talk about the same thing at every tea. If you meet other people it makes no difference." "How clever of you!"