'Perhaps it would be----' Mrs. Freddy's eye flying back from Stonor caught her brother-in-law's. 'Freddy'--she arrested her husband as he was making for the bell--'say, "except to Miss Levering."' 'All right. Except to Miss Levering.' And it was at that point that Jean saw she wasn't being listened to. Even Mrs. Freddy, looking up, was conscious of something in Stonor's face that made her say-- 'Old Sir Hervey's youngest daughter. You knew _him_, I suppose, even if you haven't met her. Jean, you aren't giving Mr. Stonor anything to eat.' 'No, no, thanks. I don't know why I took this.' He set down his tea-cup. 'I never have tea.' 'You're like everybody else,' said the girl, in a half-petulant aside. 'Does nobody have tea?' She lowered her voice while the others discussed who had already been sent away, and who might still be expected to invade. 'Nobody remembers anybody else when that Miss Levering of theirs is to the fore. You began to say when--to talk about Scotland.' He had taken out his watch. 'I was wondering if the children were down yet. Shall we go and see?' Jean jumped up with alacrity. 'Sh!' Mrs. Freddy held up a finger and silenced her little circle. 'They must have thought I was ringing for toast--somebody's being let in!' 'Let's hope it's Miss Levering,' said Mr. Freddy. 'I must see those young barbarians of yours before I go,' said Stonor, rising with decision. The sound of voices on the stair was quite distinct now. By the time the servant had opened the door and announced: 'Mrs. Heriot, Miss Heriot, Captain Beeching,' Mr. Freddy, the usually gracious host, was leading the way through the back drawing-room, unblushingly abetting Mr. Stonor's escape under the very eyes of persons who would have gone miles on the chance of meeting him. Small wonder that Jean was consoled for knowing herself too shy to follow, if she remembered that he had actually asked her to do so! She showed no surprise at the tacit assumption on the part of his relations that Geoffrey Stonor could never be expected to sit there as common mortals might, making himself more or less agreeable to whoever might chance to drop in. Unless they were 'very special' of course he couldn't be expected to put up with them. But what on earth was happening! No wonder Mrs. Freddy looked aghast. For Mrs. Heriot had had the temerity to execute a short cut and waylay the escaping lion. 'Oh, how do you do?'--she thrust out a hand. And he went out as if she had been thin air! It was the kind of insolence that used to be more common, because safer, than it is likely to be in future--a form of condoned brutality that used to inspire more awe than disgust. People were guilty even of a slavish admiration of those who had the nerve to administer this wholly disproportionate reproof to the merely maladroit. It could be done only by one whom all the world had conspired to befog and befool about his importance in the scheme of things.