"You mustn’t, mustn’t, mustn’t!" commanded Maggy vehemently. "Don’t you see it’s good for you? If you do he’ll take away your song and put that Vandaleur man on your track. He’s after little Graves now, but he let out to her that he tried to get to know you, only De Freyne told him he hadn’t an earthly. Graves told me that herself. And you don’t want to get me the sack, do you? After all, Lexie dear," she wheedled, "I made it a royalty, didn’t I? I didn’t think any one else good enough." "I know you meant it for the best. But—but it’s such a horrid idea and so—so far-fetched. De Freyne is sure to find out sooner or later." "So long as it’s later it’s all right. You make the most of it while he’s dreaming of meeting your prince and smoking a cigar with him in public, and p’raps getting the order of the Boot in diamonds to wear on his chest. It’ll do him good to be disappointed." Alexandra would not have been human had she refused to listen to such reasoning. She might have argued that De Freyne had recognized her talent. But she very well knew that was not the case. It was quite evident to her that had she been without talent or voice he would have commissioned Goss and Lander to write her a song on two notes all the same. "I’ll chance it, Maggy," she announced finally. "That’s right," said Maggy, greatly relieved, and then became abstracted. "You ought to have some diamonds to wear on the night," she added presently. "I wish I knew an I.D.B." XXX Diamonds for Alexandra had been no random idea of Maggy’s. The question of how to provide them, or at least some jewelry for her to wear on the great occasion, continued to exercise her mind. She woke up full of it the next morning. If they were to be obtained, though only for one night, De Freyne would be wonderfully and awfully impressed. And Maggy was right. De Freyne’s estimate of a girl was largely influenced by the intrinsic value of what she carried upon her person. Woolf could be of no help in this matter. He very seldom cared to discuss Alexandra at all, and considering that he had not shown any inclination to supply Maggy herself with any jewelry worth mentioning he was hardly likely to do more for her friend. Then a daring thought came into her head. Alexandra had told her that Lord Chalfont was back in London. Couldn’t he do something? Ever a slave to the enthusiasm of the moment, she looked up Chalfont’s address in the telephone index and then drove there. Her heart went into her mouth as she thought of what Woolf would say if he knew where she was bound for. But that did not stop her. She was one of Nature’s gamblers, and the element of danger in the undertaking gave her a certain relish for it.