You sat with her, sweetly pulling some reputation to pieces; you left full-fed with evil spice; and then you shivered. Were not the same thin fingers pulling out your secrets now, those secrets you foolishly hinted at? "Ah! pretty Esmé!" Mousie blew a kiss from her reddened lips. "You here! Where's Mrs Bellew, Miss Chauntsey? We may see her at dinner-time; we may not, if she has taken a tea-basket to the backwater close by." Mousie laughed at Sybil. "Does your young mind run upon hostesses who wait to receive their guests? You will not find them here, my child. Tell the men to get tea, Jimmie; we'll have it here." The veranda was a series of outdoor rooms, wooden partitions, rose-grown, dividing it. Sybil's grey eyes were sparkling; this was so different from tea in decorous drawing-rooms, from a stately week-end spent at Ascot with her mother. "Tea?" Mousie turned to the footman. "Cream sandwiches and fruit. This riverside hotel," said Mrs Cavendish, "is an excellent one. Why, fair Esmé, you look pallid. And what pretty emeralds, chérie. Oh! the rewards of beauty!" The keen little eyes were frankly malicious, frankly open as to what they meant. Esmé flushed a little; she saw the green eyes flash on at Gore Helmsley. Esmé was almost crudely virtuous; the hint offended. Servants were preparing the lawn for the night's revel. Temporary lights were being hung on strings, the turf swept and rolled; a great mirror was set up. "For the cotillon?" Esmé asked. "For the cotillon. We begin at nine. So that at twelve the cock shall crow and we shall all--not go to bed." "More people coming. Mrs Bellew," said Sybil, "was not out; she is coming into the garden now." "Ah! tiens, my child! it was my kindness to say that she was out, knowing it was the hour of electricity. Once the knell of forty sounds we must have our faces recharged daily. The Prince is coming--look ye!" Prince Fritz--young, fat, extremely volatile, a thorn in the side of his august mother and his wife--came tripping across the grass. He talked English with a strong accent, and he bemoaned the future when he must go home. Yet, though Belle Bellew might box his ears later in a romp, she must bob to him now discreetly as she greeted him. Prince Fritz boomed out content and delight. "There is no place such as this river house," he said, "none, fair lady." Then he looked round for the dancer, who was his special attraction. "Don't be alarmed, sir--she arrives," mocked Mousie from her balcony, "she arrives. The revenues can continue to be squandered, and a nice little woman's heart torn by the snapshots she sees of you in the picture papers." Prince Fritz grinned equably; he was not dignified. "Like to see the river?" Gore Helmsley asked Sybil. The girl was charming in her simple dress. Fresh and sweet and unspoiled, eagerly delighted with everything.