Her own words as she had left her dressing room came back into Feo’s mind. “You’re a jolly good sportsman, child.”—Well, although she could hardly believe her eyes and the incident opened up the widest range of incredulity, she would show this astonishing girl that there were other sportsmen about. “We went to the Ritz,” she replied, as though to one of her “gang,” “but it looked hideously depressing and so we came on here.” And she went forward and put her arm around Lola’s shoulder in her most affectionate way. How well her old frock came out on that charming figure. She suspected the shoes and stockings. “So this is what you do, Lola, when the cat’s away!” And Lola laughed and said, “Oh, but doesn’t one deserve a little holiday from time to time?” “Of course,—and you who are so devoted to good causes.” “The best of causes and the most beautiful.” Lola would return the ball until she dropped. Feo knew this and had mercy, but there was an amazing glint in her eyes. The little monkey! It was obvious to Lola that Feo had not met Chalfont or else that she had met him and was not on speaking terms. Either way how could she resist the chance that had been brought about by this extraordinary contretemps. So she said, “Lady Feo, may I introduce my old friend, Sir Peter Chalfont,—Lady Feodorowna Fallaray.” It so happened that these two had not met,—although Feo’s was not the fault. It was that Chalfont disliked the lady and had gone deliberately out of his way to avoid her acquaintance. He bowed profoundly.—Lola, her name was Lola. What a dear little name. “We’ve got a box at the Adelphi,” said Feo. “Berry’s funny and Grossmith’s always good. There’s room for four. Won’t you come?” What did she care at the moment whether this invitation made Ellingham’s eyes flick with anger or not. All this was too funny for words.—That little monkey! “Thanks so much,” said Lola, with a slight drawl, “but it so happens that we’re going round to the House of Commons to hear a debate. Perhaps we can foregather some other night.” And she looked Feo full in the face, as cool as a fish. It didn’t matter what was said after that. There was a murmur from the other three and a separation, Ellingham marching the laughing Feo away, Chalfont crossing over to the hatroom, greatly relieved. Lola, alone for a moment, stood in the middle of what seemed to be an ocean of carpet under hundreds of thousands of lights, with her heart playing ducks and drakes, but with a sense of thrill and exultation that were untranslatable. “What a sportsman,” she thought.—“But of course she noticed her stockings.” And when Chalfont returned to her side he said, “I don’t like your knowing that woman. You seem frightfully pally. You didn’t tell me that she was a great friend of yours.” “Well,” said Lola, “I haven’t told you very much of anything, have I? That’s because I like to hear you talk, I suppose.”