Dan felt his heart grow cold. If she had awakened him when he was a little boy, she thrilled him now; he could have wept. Lady Caiwarn did wipe tears away. When the last note of the accompaniment had ended, Dan’s friend at his side said: “How utterly ravishing! What a beautiful, lovely creature; how charming and how frail!” He scarcely answered. He was making his way to Letty Lane, and he wrung her hand, murmuring, “Oh, you’re great; you’re great!” And the pleasure on his face repaid her over and over again. “Come, I want you to meet the Duchess of Breakwater, and some other friends of mine.” As he let her little cold hand fall and turned about, the room as by magic had cleared. The prime minister had arrived late and was in the other room. The refreshments were also being served. There was no one to meet Letty Lane, except for several young men who came up eagerly and asked to be presented, Gordon Galorey among them. “Where’s Lily?” Dan asked him; “I want her to meet Miss Lane.” “In the conservatory with the prime minister,” and Galorey looked meaningly at Dan, as much as to say, “Now don’t be an utter fool.” But Letty Lane herself saved the situation. She shook hands with the utmost cordiality and sweetness with the men who had been presented to her, and asked Dan to take her to her motor. He waited for her at the door and she came down wrapped around as usual in her filmy scarf. “Are you better?” he asked eagerly. “You look awfully stunning, and I don’t think I can ever thank you enough.” She assured him that she was “all right,” and that she had a “lovely new rôle to learn and that it was coming on next month.” He helped her in and she seemed to fill the motor like a basket of fresh white flowers. Again he repeated, as he held the door open: “I can’t thank you enough: you were a great success.” She smiled wickedly, and couldn’t resist: “Especially with the women.” Dan’s face flushed; he was already deeply hurt for her, and her words showed him that the insult had gone home. “Where are you going now?” “Right to the Savoy.” Without another word, hatless as he was, he got into the motor and closed the door. “I’m going to take you home,” he informed her quietly, “and there’s no use in looking at me like that either! When I’m set on a thing I get it!” They rolled away in the bland sunset, passed the park, down Piccadilly, where the flowers in the streets were so sweet that they made the heart ache, and the air through the window was so sweet that it made the senses swim! CHAPTER XVIII—A WOMAN’S WAY