"It certainly isn't complimentary to me," he replied; "but you've always exercised the prerogative of a friend to tell disagreeable truths." "Now, that's very unkind, Mr. Stanley. I'm sure I only do it for your good." "My dear Lady Isabelle, if you'll allow a man who is older than your charming self, and who has seen more of the world than I hope you'll ever do----" "To tell a disagreeable truth?" she queried, filling out the sentence, as pique prompted her. "To make a suggestion." "It's the same thing. Go on." "It's merely this. That you'll never achieve a great social success till you've realised that the well-being of your friends is your least important consideration." "Dear me, Mr. Secretary, I had no idea you were so tender in regard to Miss Fitzgerald." "Who said anything about Miss Fitzgerald?" "I did. I don't suppose you knew she was to be at Roberts' Hall." "Certainly I know it. That is the very reason why I'm not going." "I'm unfeignedly rejoiced. I've watched your progress in London with much interest, and believe me, Miss Fitzgerald is a stumbling-block in your path." "All my friends, all the people who have my good at heart," he replied a trifle testily, "seem to think it their duty to warn me against Miss Fitzgerald." "I should hate to see you become entangled." "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but there's not even the shadow of a chance of such an event coming to pass. Miss Fitzgerald and I are both philosophers in our way. We attend to the serious business of society when we are apart, and indulge in a little mild and harmless flirtation when we occasionally meet, quite understanding that it means nothing, and is merely a means of relaxation, to keep our hands in, as it were." "You say that so glibly, that I'm sure you must have said it before. It's flippant, and, besides that, it's not strictly true." "Really!" "Oh, excuse me if I've said anything rude, but this is a very, very serious matter, according to my way of thinking! and I do wish you'd consent to be serious about it just for once, won't you, to please me?" "Certainly, if you wish it, and I'm amazingly honoured that you should have spent so much of your valuable time over my poor affairs." "That isn't a promising beginning," she said reflectively, "for a man who has agreed to be serious; but really now, you must know that I'm distressed about you. Your attentions to this lady are the talk of London." "I've told you," he replied, "that I've refused this invitation to the house-party. Isn't that a sufficient answer, and won't it set your mind at rest?" "Ye-es. Would you object if I asked just one more question? If you think it horribly impertinent you're just to refuse to answer it." "Ask away." "Had you, before refusing, previously accepted this invitation of Mrs. Roberts?" "Yes," he replied, a trifle sheepishly. "Thanks, so much," she said, "I quite understand now." "Then may we talk on some more congenial subject?"