Let Gilly clamour never so wildly for figures to be ready for him by the next morning, in order that he might know whether the latest child of his genius could be reared in this hard world or must be considered merely as an ideal laid up in the heavens, an evening had to be found to go and see the Nun as Joan of Arc--first as the rustic maid in that village in France (its name was on the programme), and then, in silver armour, exhorting the King of France (who was supposed to be on horseback in the wings). The question of the Nun's horse was solved by an elderly white animal being discovered on the stage when the curtain rose--the Nun was assumed to have just dismounted (voluntarily)--and being led off to the blare of trumpets. This was for the second song, of course, and it was the second song which brought Miss Doris Flower the greatest triumph that she had ever yet achieved. Its passing references to the favour of Heaven were unexceptionable in taste--so all the papers declared; its martial spirit stirred the house; its tune caught on immensely; and, by a happy inspiration, Joan of Arc had (as she was historically quite entitled to have) a prophetic vision of a time when the relations between her own country and England would be infinitely happier than they were in the days of Charles VII. and Henry VI. This vision having fortunately been verified, the public applauded Joan of Arc's sentiments to the echo, while the author and the management were very proud of their skill in imparting this touch of "actuality" to the proceedings. Finally, the Nun was in excellent voice, and the silver armour suited her figure prodigiously well. "Yes, it's a great go," said Miss Flower contentedly, when Andy went round to her room to see her. She draped a Japanese dressing-gown over the silver armour, laid her helmet on the table, and lit a cigarette. "It knocks the Quaker into a cocked hat, and makes even the Nun look silly. The booking's enormous; and it's something to draw them here, with that Venus-rising-from-the-foam girl across the Square. I'm told, too, that she appears to have chosen a beach where there are no by-laws in force, Andy." Andy explained that he had not much leisure for even the most attractive entertainments. "Do you know," she proceeded, "that something very funny--I shan't want you for ten minutes, Mrs. Milsom" (this to her dresser, who discreetly withdrew)--"has happened about Billy Foot? I don't mind telling you, in confidence, that at Meriton I thought he was going to break out. With half an opportunity he would have. Since we came back I've only seen him twice, and then he tried to avoid me. His usual haunts, Andy, know him only occasionally, and then in company which, to my mind, undoubtedly has its home in Kensington." "What's the matter with him, I wonder? Now you remind me, I've hardly seen him either."