Ernestine rose and ordered fresh coffee. She was embarrassed that Thurley must meet the first real scandal in her house, not but what she would and must meet many such and not that it shocked Ernestine for she had always been indifferent to such situations. But latent motherhood pricked through the armor of indifference. She began in an extremely spirited manner to talk of things to which the answers could be anything but personal. She directly engaged Lissa in conversation, leaving Mark free to drift over towards Thurley. Within a few moments they began laughing over some nonsense, to Lissa’s annoyance, in the same spirit with which Thurley and Dan had one time laughed—at least two lifetimes ago! Mark sat on a straddle chair before her to admire her wild-rose coloring, contrasting it with Lissa’s well rouged cheek. He liked Thurley’s green frock which brought out the whiteness of her skin and the glorious, deep sea eyes, purple in the winter’s afternoon light. Presently this embryo prima donna and the famous dancer, who for the time being mistook shadow for substance, found themselves discussing juvenile sports which both really had rebelled at leaving behind. “You skate? So do I—let’s go incog—I’ll wear a mustache—there is certain to be a crowd if we’re known,” Lissa heard Mark saying. “ ... and in summer I can play five sets of tennis—and dance half the night,” Thurley made answer. “Splendid—Collin has a wonderful court, I want to take you up there—” Lissa’s pink lips were thin and shrewd. “Come, dear,” she said to Mark in her softest voice, “the little girl will be hoarse to-morrow if you keep her chattering like a magpie.” And Thurley, as Ernestine told Hobart afterwards, sank in her first feminine harpoon! She rose as obediently as if she were but half her age, saying, “We can plan about it later, your _aunt_ is calling you!” After which Lissa, snarls and purrs all in one, and Mark more confused and brief in his farewells than Ernestine had ever seen him, made an inharmonious exit. And Ernestine kissed Thurley and twirled her about, saying, “Oh beautiful—beautiful—_beautiful_!” CHAPTER XVI Like all clever women who have met defeat often enough to escape it in the future, Lissa realized the best way to vanquish an enemy was to know her intimately. Therefore, she invited Thurley to dinner at the Hotel Particular. The pink card looked very innocent as Thurley read in Lissa’s exaggerated handwriting, “I’ve asked no one else, dear child, because I want really to know you. And I shall not take no for an answer—I’ll come and get you if you don’t appear at the stroke of seven.” Thurley showed the card to Bliss Hobart before they began their lesson, watching his brows draw together in quick alarm and then lift cynically. He threw it aside with an annoyed gesture.