This time it was the marchioness who administered a snub to the unlucky speaker. She observed severely: “As soon as any gentleman, in whatever position, has received the accolade of his sovereign, he ceases, in my opinion, to be a proper subject for ridicule.” Just as this rebuke was ended the door opened quickly, and a small, insignificant-looking man in a rather shabby lounge suit strolled into the room. On catching sight of the group round the marchioness he stopped short, and looked as if meditating flight. The marchioness promptly took him into custody. “Pray come in, George! This is quite too charmingly domestic and suburban,” she observed, addressing the company generally. “My husband has actually come home to tea.” The Marquis of Severn, who was generally supposed to haunt a small dark room somewhere near the kitchen stairs, called by courtesy the library, was plainly disconcerted by the position in which he found himself. “I’m really very sorry, Jane; but I didn’t know you had a party on.” By this time he had succeeded in recognizing the two men. He gave Despencer a careless nod, and walked across the room to shake hands with Hammond. “How d’ye do? I see you know my women,” he remarked. “My dear father,” Victoria remonstrated, “if you are not careful you will wake up some day and find yourself covered with moss. Mr. Hammond and I are all but engaged.” “Victoria!” came in tones of stifled anguish from the marchioness. “Don’t you believe her, Severn,” laughed Hammond. “I haven’t given your daughter the slightest encouragement--as yet.” “Well, you should have my consent, if it counted for anything,” said the marquis, beginning to make his retreat from the room. Again his wife’s voice arrested him. “George, now you have come in, you must stay, you know. I should consider it very marked if you went away.” “You don’t want me, Jane; I should only be in the way,” he objected, feebly. “You underrate your social powers, George. Besides, I don’t ask you to talk to any one. I only want you to show yourself.” “If that’s all, I’m sure I needn’t stay. But I leave you my photograph.” With these words Lord Severn made a bolt for it, and succeeded in getting out of hearing before his wife could launch a fresh injunction. The marchioness bit her lip in some embarrassment. Despencer caught her eye and managed to infuse a certain meaning into his look, as he asked aloud: “Who are you going to have to sing on Thursday night?” The marchioness took her cue with the dexterity of an old diplomatist. She leaned back in her chair with an air of utter unconcern, as she responded: “I have almost forgotten. Some people they recommended to me at the music-seller’s.” She raised her hand to her brow, as though studying to recollect. “Let me see. Oh yes, there is one woman who I believe is perfectly charming. They told me that at the music-halls all the young men were dying for her.” Hammond moved his head rather abruptly to look at the speaker.