Lola could see that she had given her new friend a task from which he would do almost anything to escape. After all, there was not much in common between Fallaray, whose nose was at the grindstone, and Peter Chalfont, who had nothing to do but kill time. But she must meet Fallaray that night. It was written. Every man was a stepping-stone to this one man who needed her so, but did not know her yet. Therefore, with a touch of ruthlessness that came to her directly from her famous ancestress, she thanked him and added, “It can be managed near the place where you put your hat and coat.” Chalfont was amused and interested and even perhaps a little astonished at this pretty young thing who had the ways of a woman of the world. “I agree with you,” he said, “but——” and looked at the menu. Lola shook her head. “I hate buts. They are at the meat course and we’ve only just begun. Dinner doesn’t really interest you and I’m a mere canary. The moment they rise from the table we can make a quick exit.” It was on the tip of her tongue to quote Simpkins and say “nick out.” Chalfont grinned, pounced upon his roll and started to eat. “After all,” he said, “it will give me an admirable opportunity of inviting you to supper. Keep an eye on the old birds and as soon as they show a disposition to evacuate the situation we’ll limber up and wait for them in the foyer. He’s a hero of yours. Is that the idea?” “Yes,” she said simply. “Do you happen to know Lady Feo?” “Very well, indeed. She has been very kind to me. I like her.” Chalfont shifted his shoulders. That was quite enough. “Are you going to give me the whole of the evening?” he asked. “Or will that escort of yours show up sooner or later and claim you?” “He’s as good as dead, as far as I’m concerned. What do you suggest?” He bent forward eagerly. “I dunno. A show of sorts. Not the theater. I can’t stand that. We might drop into one of the Reviews or see what they are doing at the Coliseum. I love the red-nosed comedian who falls over a pin and breaks a million plates in an agony of economical terror. Do you like that sort of thing?” Lola’s experience of Reviews and Variety entertainments was limited to Hammersmith and the suburbs. “You’re going to do something for me,” she said, “so I am perfectly ready to do something for you. I’m rather keen about give and take.” Which was good hearing for Chalfont. He hadn’t met many women who understood that golden rule. He could see even then that the little de Brézé was going to play ducks and drakes with his future plans, put him to a considerable amount of inconvenience and probably keep him hanging about town,—for which he had very little use now that the sun was shining. Already Lola’s attraction had begun its disturbing effect. He was on the verge of becoming brother of a valet, a butler, two footmen and the Lord knew how many of the hobble-de-hoys of Queen’s Road, Bayswater.