'_Certainly_ not. What a nuisance you are! Do go away.... I think I shall wear my salmon-coloured dress with the sort of mayonnaise- coloured sash.... (No, you're not to have it, Archie).' 'But, Mother, I've got it.... I can soon mend it, Mother.' On Sunday evening Bruce's high spirits seemed to flag; he had one of his sudden reactions. He looked at everything on its dark side. 'What on earth's that thing in your hair, Edith?' 'It's a bandeau.' 'I don't like it. Your hair looks very nice without it. What on _earth_ did you get it for?' 'For about six-and-eleven, I think.' 'Don't be trivial, Edith. We shall be late. Ah! It really does seem rather a pity, the very first time one dines with people like the Mitchells.' 'We sha'n't be late, Bruce. It's eight o'clock, and eight o'clock I suppose means--well, eight. Sure you've got the number right?' 'Really. Edith!... My memory is unerring, dear. I never make a mistake. Haven't you ever noticed it?' 'A--oh yes--I think I have.' 'Well, it's 168 Hamilton Place. Look sharp, dear.' On their way in the taxi he gave her a good many instructions and advised her to be perfectly at her ease and _absolutely natural_; there was nothing to make one otherwise, in either Mr or Mrs Mitchell. Also, he said, it didn't matter a bit what she wore, as long as she had put on her _best_ dress. It seemed a pity she had not got a new one, but this couldn't be helped, as there was now no time. Edith agreed that she knew of no really suitable place where she could buy a new evening dress at eight-thirty on Sunday evening. And, anyhow, he said, she looked quite nice, really very smart; besides, Mrs Mitchell was not the sort of person who would think any the less of a pretty woman for being a little dowdy and out of fashion. When they drove up to what house agents call in their emotional way a superb, desirable, magnificent town mansion, they saw that a large dinner-party was evidently going on. A hall porter and four powdered footmen were in evidence. 'By Jove!' said Bruce, as he got out, 'I'd no idea old Mitchell did himself so well as this.'... The butler had never heard of the Mitchells. The house belonged to Lord Rosenberg. 'Confound it! 'said Bruce, as he flung himself into the taxi. 'Well! I've made a mistake for once in my life. I admit it. Of course, it's really Hamilton Gardens. Sorry. Yet somehow I'm rather glad Mitchell doesn't live in that house.' 'You are perfectly right,' said Edith: 'the bankruptcy of an old friend and colleague could be no satisfaction to any man.'