There is generally a moment of indecision when the men come up from dinner. The ladies have appropriated the most comfortable and naturally the most isolated chairs, and their lords and masters huddle like sheep in the doorway, uncertain where to flee for refuge and the most desirable companion. The Secretary had studied this peculiarity of his sex, and had learned to choose his goal beforehand. One glance showed him that Lady Isabelle was absent; either she had retired, her mother was quite capable of ordering her off to bed to keep her out of harm's way, or else she was in the conservatory. He trusted that this last supposition was correct, and disappeared among the palms, when the Marchioness' attention was directed elsewhere. "And in that case?" he said, as he stood beside her, recalling her last words at the table. "In that case?" "In that case," she replied, flushing slightly, "I should probably have said something I might have regretted, had not Mrs. Roberts come to my rescue." "And now?" "Don't be stupid, Mr. Stanley. Surely you know that any well-brought-up girl would always obey her mother--and--and you ought to see that this conversation is impossible." "It's certainly unique." "Don't you think we had better change the subject?" "By all means, if you wish it, after I've asked you one more question. I trust you won't think me rude to persist, but--do you care for me, Lady Isabelle?" "As a friend, yes." "But in no other way?" "In no other way." "You're quite sure?" "Quite, and I'm very sorry you asked me the question. I tried hard to prevent you." "You've succeeded admirably," he said, laughing. "I was afraid you did care." He held out his hand, and she took it, saying with a little constraint in her manner: "You're certainly frank." He was pleased to see that she was only piqued; the speech had been unfortunate; but Lady Isabelle had plenty of common sense, and she realised that his naïve confession had cleared the atmosphere, and made social intercourse possible. He made another attempt to interest her in general conversation, this time succeeding admirably. And so an hour slipped by unnoticed, until the stern voice of the Dowager recalled them to the realities of life. "Isabelle," she said coldly, "you are surely forgetting your duty to our hostess, and to me also, it seems." "I'm coming, mamma," she replied, and left him with a quiet "Good-night." Stanley felt immensely relieved. That was over; Lady Isabelle and he understood each other now, and his path was clear for--was it to be matrimony after all? He told himself he was a weak fool--that Miss Fitzgerald cared nothing for him; would not take him after last night; that he was under no real obligation and that he was a sentimental idiot--yet, he must see her--for his own sake--to justify himself--to---- He resolutely shut his eyes to the future, and went in search of the lady in question.