"Oh, I do not think she is annoyed," replied Sir Maurice. At that Philip stalked out of the room, leaving his father a prey to indecent mirth. Four The Trouble Comes to a Head At half-past five on Wednesday Mr. Henry Bancroft was ushered into the withdrawing-room at the Pride. He was, as he had intended he should be, the last to arrive. Sir Maurice stood in front of the empty grate, talking to Mr. Charteris; madam sat on a couch, her daughter beside her, and Philip nearby. They all looked up as Mr. Bancroft was announced, and Philip rose, for the first time in his life acutely conscious of an ill-fitting coat and unpowdered hair. Mr. Bancroft was a dream of lilac and rose. He might have been dressed for a ball, thought Cleone. Diamonds and rubies flashed from his buckles, and from his cravat; a diamond clasp was above the riband that tied his wig. He minced forward daintily and bowed, one be-ringed hand over his heart. Sir Maurice came forward, very stately in black with touches of purple. "Ah, Mr. Bancroft! I need not present you to the ladies, I know." He paused to allow Bancroft to throw a languishing glance towards the couch. "I think you and my son are not altogether unknown to one another?" Bancroft turned on his heel to face Philip. He bowed again, slightly flourishing his handkerchief. "My playmate of long ago," he murmured. "Your very obedient, Mr. Jettan." Philip returned the bow awkwardly. "I am very pleased to meet you again, sir," he said, determined to be polite to this most obnoxious guest. "Do you--er--intend to make a long stay?" Bancroft raised his shoulders and spread out his hands. "I had thought not, sir, but now"--another glance was cast at Cleone--"I think--perhaps--!" He smiled, running quick, appraising eyes over Philip's person. "Do you know, sir, I swear I'd not have known you. You have grown prodigiously." Cleone broke into the conversation. "You were so much older than Philip or James or me, Mr. Bancroft!" Instantly he swept round. "I thank you for the past tense, Mistress Cleone! At least, I am no longer so aged." "Why, sir, have you lost your years?" she asked. "In your company, yes, madam. Can you wonder?" "Oh, I am monstrous flattered, sir!" Cleone spread out her fan and held it before her face. "Not flattered, Mistress Cleone; justly appreciated." "La!" said Madam Charteris. "How can you say such things, Mr. Bancroft? I declare you will make my daughter vain!" "Vanity, madam, mates not with such beauty as that of your daughter," he retaliated. To the right he could see Philip, glowering, and his mischievous soul laughed. Then Sir Maurice claimed his attention, and he turned away. Philip walked to the couch and stood behind it, resting his arm on the back. He leaned over Cleone with an air of possession. "Pranked out mummer!" he muttered in her ear. Cleone smiled up at him.