"Mr. Davidge, would you be so good as to take me home--to Mrs. Widdicombe's, that is. I--I am a little faint." "Delighted! I mean--I'm sorry--I'd be glad," he stammered, eager to be at her service, yet embarrassed by the sudden appeal. "You'll pardon me, Mrs. Prothero, for running away!" "Of course," said Mrs. Prothero, still dazed. He bowed to her, and all round. Marie Louise nodded and whispered, "Good night!" and moved toward the door waveringly. Davidge's heart leaped with pity for her. Lady Clifton-Wyatt checked him as he hurried past her. "Oh, Mr. Davidge, I'm stopping at the Shoreham. Won't you drop in and have a cup of tea with me to-morrow at hahf pahst fah?" "Thank you! Yes!" CHAPTER VII The intended victim of Lady Clifton-Wyatt's little lynching-bee walked away, holding her head high. But she felt the noose still about her neck and wondered when the rope would draw her back and up. Marie Louise marched through Mrs. Prothero's hall in excellent form, with just the right amount of dizziness to justify her escape on the plea of sudden illness. The butler, like a benign destiny, opened the door silently and let her out into the open as once before in London a butler had opened a door and let her into the welcome refuge of walls. She gulped the cool night air thirstily, and it gave her courage. But it gave her no wisdom. She had indeed got away from Lady Clifton-Wyatt's direct accusation of being a spy and she had brought with her unscathed the only man whose good opinion was important to her. But she did not know what she wanted to do with him, except that she did not want him to fall into Lady Clifton-Wyatt's hands--in which she had left her reputation. Polly Widdicombe would have gone after Marie Louise forthwith, but Polly did not intend to leave her pet foewoman in possession of the field--not that she loved Marie Louise more, but that she loved Lady Clifton-Wyatt less. Polly was dazed and bewildered by Marie Louise's defection, but she would not accept Lady Clifton-Wyatt's version of this story or of any other. Besides, Polly gleaned that Marie Louise wanted to be alone, and she knew that the best gift friendship can bestow at times is solitude. The next best gift is defense in absence. Polly announced that she would not permit her friend to be traduced; and Lady Clifton-Wyatt, seeing that the men had flocked in from the dining-room and knowing that men always discount one woman's attack on another as mere cattiness, assumed her most angelic mien and changed the subject. * * * * *