"We are a fine couple," he said gaily. "With my brain to plot and yours to weave, we might possess the universe. Again, it shall be done; Lady Frobisher shall take up Mrs. Benstein. Lord, what a pleasant time I shall have at luncheon!" He lay back in his chair chuckling and croaking long after Lopez had departed. The second luncheon gong sounded before he rose and made his way to the dining-room. Lady Frobisher, tall and slim and exquisitely patrician, had already taken her place at the table. Angela came in a moment later with a murmured apology for keeping the others waiting. "You have both been out?" Frobisher asked in his politest manner. "Riding, eh? Is there anything new?" Lady Frobisher was languidly of opinion that there was nothing fresh. Most people were looking fagged and worn out owing to the heat of the season; she was feeling it herself. "It’s a treat to see some suggestion of the open country," she said in her languid way. "For instance, we met Harold Denvers. He was like a whiff of the sea to us." Frobisher shot a lightning glance at Angela. Try as she would, she could not keep the colour from her face. And in that instant Frobisher knew the meaning of Angela’s secret visit downstairs a night or two before. Angela also knew that he guessed; the flame on her cheek grew almost painful. "So he’s back," Frobisher said, with a suppressed chuckle in his voice. "Don’t you ask him here." "As if he would come," Angela exclaimed indignantly. "I am sure Lady Frobisher would not do anything of the kind. She would as soon ask that impossible Benstein woman!" A queer light flamed into Frobisher’s eyes. Luck had given him an opening sooner than he had expected. He was prepared to lead up to his point by tortuous means. "Is there anything impossible in society nowadays?" he asked. "Mrs. Benstein is beautiful and audacious, and her husband is fabulously rich. What more could you have?" "She was actually wearing diamonds this morning," Angela murmured. "Well, what of that? Next year, next week, it may be the thing to wear diamonds in the morning. After all, fashion is dictated by the tradesman you buy your stockings from, men with Board School education for the most part. Ain’t you photographed in evening dress and picture-hats? After that atrocity any thing is possible. Mrs. Benstein will be at the Duchess’s party to-day." "Really, my dear Clement, I can’t see how that can possibly interest me." Frobisher laughed again, and the quick grin bared his white teeth. He liked his wife in these moods, he liked to bring her down from her high pedestal at times. "It means a good deal to you," he said gaily. "_Ma chérie_, I have a mood to take Mrs. Benstein up. The woman fascinates me, and I would fain study her like one of my valued orchids. Of course, I don’t make a point of it, but I shall be glad if you will get an introduction to Mrs. Benstein, and ask her to your fancy dance next week."