“Poor Charles, but you know you treat her a little like a child. You shouldn’t talk of catching cold. You’re too material.” She was surprised to hear him say with a sort of humble pride, “Only before other people. She’s heard me different.” Then, dropping into the despair of his own thoughts, and with the rage of one feeling himself sinking hopelessly, he cried out, “It’s like pouring water through a sieve.” The voice of Rose, very calm and wise, said gently, “Continue to pour.” “It’s all very fine,” he muttered. “Continue to pour. It may be all you can do, but it is worth while.” “I told her I would do that, one night, on the hill. She said she didn’t want it.” “She doesn’t know,” Rose said in the same voice, comforting in its quietness. She stood up. “We had better go back now, and remember, you promise to do for her anything I ask of you.” “Of course,” he said, “but I shall do it wrong.” She laid her hand on his arm. “It must be done rightly. It must. It will be. Now take me back.” He resigned her unwillingly, for he felt that she was his strength, to the partner who claimed her, but as she prepared to dance, Charles returned hurriedly and, ignoring the affronted gentleman who had already clasped her, he said anxiously, “This service—what is it? Is there something wrong?” She looked deeply into his eyes. “There must not be.” And now, for him in the sea of dancers, there were two dark heads bobbing among the waves. The hours sped by; the lavish supper was consumed; dresses and flowers lost their freshness; the musicians lost their energetic ardour; the man at the piano was seen to yawn cavernously above the keys. The guests began to depart, leaving an exhausted but happy Mrs. Batty. She had been complimented by Miss Mallett on the perfection of her arrangements, on the brilliance of the assembly, on the music and even on the refreshments, and Mrs. Batty had blessed her own perseverance against Mr. Batty’s obstinacy in the matter of the supper. He had wanted light refreshments and she had insisted on a knife-and-fork affair, and Miss Caroline had actually remarked on the wisdom of a solid meal. She had no patience with snacks. Mrs. Batty intended to lull Mr. Batty to slumber with that quotation. In the cab, as the Malletts jolted home in the care of the same surly driver, Caroline complaisantly spoke of her congratulations. She would not have said so much to anybody else, but she knew Mrs. Batty would be pleased. “So she was, dear,” Sophia said, but her more delicate social sense was troubled. “Though I do think one ought to treat everybody as one would treat the greatest lady in the land. I think we ought to have taken for granted that everything would be correct.” “Rubbish! You must treat people as they want to be treated. She was panting for praise, and she got it, and anyhow it’s too late to argue.”