‘That was Delicia—my wife,’ he answered curtly. ‘That! That the novelist!’ almost screamed Lady Brancewith. ‘Why didn’t you say so? Why didn’t you introduce me? I had no idea she was like that! I thought all literary women wore short hair and spectacles! Good gracious me! And she must have heard you say you considered her “unsexed!” Billy, what a brute you are!’ Carlyon started angrily. The fair Lily and he used in former days to call each other ‘Billy’ and ‘Lily’ so frequently that a wag among their acquaintance made a rhyme on them, running thus:— ‘Lily and Billy Are invariably silly! and at that time he did not mind it. But now, considering that he was ‘Lord’ Carlyon, he did not care to be addressed as ‘Billy,’ and his resentment showed itself pretty plainly on his darkened countenance. But Lady Brancewith was too much excited to heed his annoyance. ‘The idea!’ she continued. ‘If she was sitting there all the while she must have heard _everything_! A nice mess you have made of it! If I were in her place, I’d throw you off like a pair of old shoes!’ ‘I haven’t the least doubt you would,’ he said with temper. ‘It’s the way you behave with most men who have the honour of sharing your favour!’ Lily Brancewith showed her pearly teeth in a savage little smile. ‘You were always what is called “rather shady,” Billy,’ she observed calmly. ‘But I didn’t give you credit for being _quite_ a cad! Ta-ta! I’m going to find your wife and introduce myself to her. You know in society people said you were to be pitied for marrying a “literary” celebrity, but I shall put the gossips right on that point—I shall tell everybody it is she who is to be pitied for marrying a military nonentity!’