The table next to theirs was half smothered in orchids. The American millionaire was giving a luncheon party. A duchess honoured him, a slender, dark little lady, shrugging mental shoulders at the ostentation. Lady Lila Gore, heavily beautiful, was one of the party. The sallow master of millions devoured her with his shrewd, sunken eyes. This splendid pink-and-white piece of true English beauty made his own thin, vivacious wife nothing to him. He had bought Mrs Markly a rope of pearls that she might shine at the Court, but he was prepared to pay ten times their price for a smile from the big blonde Englishwoman, who knew it, and considered the question. The quails were tasteless to Esmé. She could not eat. The fear returned as she felt a distaste for her food, as she refused the ice which she had specially ordered. She grew restless, tired of Jimmie Helmsley's caressing manner, of the undercurrent of meaning in his voice. "I shall see you to-morrow at Luke's," he said. "You are looking pale, fair lady. What is it? Can I help? You know I'd do anything for you." "I've not been well," she said irritably. "We're so far out. The flat's so poky and stuffy. Oh! I shall be all right in a day or two." She would be. Hope spread his wings again. She telephoned to Bertie and met him for tea. For a few hours she was content again. The flat looked its prettiest. Her flowers were lovely. Denise Blakeney had sent her a sheaf of roses; their fragrance filled the air. Marie had put them in the vases. Esmé tried to love it all, to realize that in her way she wanted nothing. She had been so happy with Bertie in their careless life. She sat on the arm of his chair. He was allowed one big one in the flat. She laughed as he did accounts. "Butterfly, we spend every penny we have got, and a little more besides." He looked up into her radiant face. "We seem--we seem to buy a lot of things, Es." "Not half as many things as we ought to." She put her cheek to his. "We want _all_ new chair coverings, Bert, and I got the old ones cleaned." "Oh! model of economy," he said gravely. "And I bought a new hat instead. I should have to have got the hat in any case, you see. And if I do spend a little, am I not worth it, boy?" With the fragrance of her hair so close to him, with her soft cheek against his own, could he say or think so? He was losing time up there, rusting when he ought to have been with his regiment, all for Esmé's sake, because she loved London. But if it made her happy it was enough. He told her so, holding her closely. Told her how everyone loved her; poured out the flattery she was never tired of. "We can't do anything for these people; they are content to see you. Your face is repayment," he said. "No one would bother about me without you, sweetheart. You were born for society."