Again Frobisher laughed. The splendid audacity of the woman fascinated him. The people he made use of as a rule were not amusing. And here was a power. It pleased his vanity to know that he was bending a power like this to his will. "I am angry with myself to think of what I have lost," he said. "My dear Mrs. Benstein, it can all be arranged without annoyance to the lady who does me the honour to rule my household. I will bring my wife to you presently, and she shall ask you to her fancy dance next week." "That will doubtless be a great pleasure to Lady Frobisher," Mrs. Benstein smiled. "I shall like her, but I shall like Miss Lyne a great deal better. And if you try to force her to marry that detestable little Arnott I shall do my best to spoil your hand." Frobisher’s teeth flashed in one of his uneasy grins. He felt like a man who has discovered a new volcano quite unexpectedly. What an amazing lot this woman knew, to be sure; what an extraordinary fascination she must exercise over her doting husband. He followed her glance now to a distant seat under a tree where Angela and Harold Denvers were talking together. "Would you like to match your wits against mine at that stake?" he asked. Mrs. Benstein declined the challenge. She was only a woman after all, she declared. "I like the look of the girl," she said thoughtfully. "She’s honest and true. And he’s a man all through. Now go and bring Lady Frobisher to me, and we will talk prettily together, and she shall show me how much it is possible for a society woman to hate another woman without showing it. You want to make use of me or some subtle purpose, but it suits my mood for the present to comply." Frobisher went off chuckling to himself. The creature was absolutely charming, so clever and subtle. But she was neither subtle nor clever enough to see his game, Frobisher flattered himself. In a profound state of boredom Lady Frobisher was nibbling a tepid strawberry dipped in soppy cream. She was tired to death, she said, and wanted to go home. "It’s a tonic you need," Frobisher said, with one of his quick grins. "Come along, and have your mental shower-bath. I’m going to introduce Mrs. Benstein to you." Lady Frobisher rose stiffly. Her little white teeth were clenched passionately. But she made no protest. Under the eyes of fashionable London she crossed over to the place where Mrs. Benstein was seated. She knew perfectly well that her action would be the theme of general conversation at a hundred dinner-tables to-night, but she moved along now as if she were sweeping the primrose path of conventionality with her lace gown. There was some little seed of consolation in the fact that Mrs. Benstein made no attempt to shake hands. On the whole, she was perhaps the coolest and most collected of the two. "My wife very much desires to make your acquaintance," Frobisher said in his smoothest manner. "Didn’t you say something about a fancy-dress ball, Norah?"