“You are a little fanciful, Violet,” he said. “I have not been quite up to my usual form lately, and singing at these confounded concerts worries me. Hester will keep me busy, too, and I shall scarcely get a moment near you.” Now Violet Wayne was seldom troubled by trifling jealousies, but she was a little anxious about Tony, and watched him as she said, “Your duties seemed to consist in entertaining Miss Clavier on the last occasion!” The color showed in Tony’s forehead, but it was the vague apprehension in his face that astonished his companion, who noticed the sudden tightening of his fingers on the reins. Still, the only answer she caught was an indistinct “Confound the woman!” Violet made no comment, for she had noticed already that the anxieties Tony had evidently decided on concealing from her were affecting his temper, and when five minutes later they rattled up the Low Wood avenue there was no longer any opportunity for questions. Tony had contrived to arrive just as the entertainment was commencing, and Hester Earle promptly despatched him to the performers’ room. The long windows were wide open, and the soft night air flowed in with the faint scent of flowers, and a murmur of voices from the specially invited audience Miss Earle had bestowed in the tennis green, which was sunk a few feet on one side below the level of the sweep of lawn. Tennis was not a game she was fond of, and she had pacified the gardener by placing the chair legs on boards. Tony could see the shadowy mass of humanity showing black against a dazzling glare, for the big oxyhydrogen lights he had provided were then blazing in front of the proscenium, which had been extemporized on the verge of the higher level. The path that led to it wound along the edge of a tall shrubbery where colored lights blinked here and there amidst the dusky leaves. He was never certain afterwards as to whom he talked with or what he said, though he surmised that his observations had not been especially apposite, for some of those about him appeared a trifle astonished, and two of them laughed. Tony was somewhat apt to lose his head when brought face to face with a difficulty, and the fact that Lucy Davidson was sitting a few yards away disconcerted him. A glance at his programme showed him that she was to figure in two pieces of mimicry instead of dancing, and she was dressed simply and tastefully, but while the room was crowded there were only two very young men in her vicinity, and that fact with something in their laughter seemed to differentiate their companion from the rest of the company. Tony, however, fancied that they were favored with scanty encouragement from the girl. She looked at him once, but Tony turned his head away, and it was not until he was about to go out that he felt himself compelled to speak to her. “The others will take a lead from you, and those young asses are only making the thing more unpleasant for the girl,” said a man he was talking to.