Who it was that Phyllida imagined she was quoting I have really no idea. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her that, if a girl conducts a love affair quite so ostentatiously as she had done, she must not be surprised if people ask questions when, all of a sudden, nothing comes of it. It was hardly the moment to talk about ostentation, however. You remember the terrace at the Hall; we were sitting there like people in the first row of the stalls, waiting for the curtain to go up--Brackenbury, Ruth, their boy Culroyd and Hilda, his wife, my brother-in-law Spenworth, _his_ new wife, Arthur, Will and myself. I really pitied any poor young man with such an audience to face... "But all has now turned out well?," I asked. "Dear Phyllida, I am very, very glad." "Oh, don't congratulate me yet," she said. "He hasn't _said_ anything." I was really _amazed_... "I thought perhaps that, when you met at my house--," I began. After all, _if_--as I hope--everything goes well, I am entitled to a _little_ credit... "Oh, not a word!," said Phyllida. "He wouldn't even dance with me at first. I said: 'Are you trying to avoid me?' He said: 'Yes.' ... And I could have died till I saw he was only joking. Then we both laughed. Then he said: 'Would your mother invite me down to the Hall one week-end soon? It's only fair to warn her that, if she doesn't, I shall invite myself.' 'And, if you don't invite yourself, I shall invite you,' I told him. 'Don't let's say anything at present,' he said; 'I've been very busy since I saw you last, but I shall be free in a week or two.' He wired on Wednesday to know if he might come. I knew you would like to meet him and to see that my faith was justified." "Dear Phyllida," I said. "I hope indeed that it has been." "If he doesn't propose to me," answered Phyllida, "I shall propose to him. I always told you I would." Of course, I am old-fashioned; I was brought up in a different school. Do you know, even in jest, between the two of us, that kind of speech is always very distasteful to me... Apparently the young man was motoring from London, and there was some sort of idea that he would arrive in time for tea. We maintained our absurd theatrical postures until the terrace became too unbearably cold. When I went up to dress, he had not arrived; but Phyllida was still sitting with her gaze fixed down the drive to the white gates of the lodge... It may have been love; but I could not help feeling that she was _very_ conscious of the _effect_... When I came down at half-past eight, there was still no sign of him. And then you can imagine the inevitable discussion! Was he coming or was he not? Should we wait or should we begin without him? Phyllida expressed no opinion; she sat by herself, waiting... At nine o'clock I took Arthur and Will on one side and told them that we must really make a concerted attack on Ruth; I was _famished_... "He _can't_ be coming," I said.