"A little. No doubt he would laugh at my accent if he ever heard it." "Oh, I do not think so! He could not, could he? Clo, I asked if he did not think you were very beautiful, and he said--" "Jenny, you must not ask things like that!" "He did not mind! Truly, he did not! He just laughed--he is always laughing, Clo!--and said that there was no one who did not think so. Was not that neat?" "Very," said Cleone. Jennifer drew nearer. "Cleone, may I tell you a secret?" A fierce pain shot through Cleone. "A secret? What is it?" she asked quickly. "Why, Clo, how strange you look! 'Tis only that I know James to be in love with--you!" Cleone sank back. She started to laugh from sheer relief. "I do not see that it is funny," said Jennifer, hurt. "No, no, dear! It--it is not that--I mean, of course, of course, I knew that James was--was--fond of me." "Did you? Oh--oh, are you going to marry him?" Jennifer's voice squeaked with excitement. "Jenny, you ask such dreadful questions! No, I am not." "But--but he loves you, Clo! Don't you love him?" "Not like that. James only thinks he loves me. He's too young. I--Tell me about your dress, dear!" "For the ball?" Jennifer sat up, nothing loth. "'Tis of white silk--" "Sir Deryk Brenderby!" Jennifer started. "Oh, dear!" she said regretfully. A tall, loose-limbed man came in. "Fair Mistress Cleone! I am happy, indeed, to have found you in! I kiss your hands, dear lady!" Cleone drew them away, smiling. "Mistress Jennifer Winton, Sir Deryk." Brenderby seemed to become suddenly aware of Jenny's presence. He bowed. Jennifer curtseyed demurely, and took refuge behind her friend. Sir Deryk lowered himself into a chair. "Mistress Cleone, can you guess why I have come?" "To see me!" said Cleone archly. "That is the obvious, fair tormentor! Another reason had I." "The first should be enough, sir," answered Cleone, with downcast eyes. "And is, Most Beautiful. But the other reason concerns you also." "La! You intrigue me, sir! Pray, what is it?" "To beg, on my knees, that you will dance with me on Wednesday!" "Oh, I don't know!" Cleone shook her head. "I doubt all the dances are gone." "Ah, no, dearest lady! Not all!" "Indeed, I think so! I cannot promise anything." "But you give me hope?" "I will not take it from you," said Cleone. "Perhaps Jennifer will give you a dance." Sir Deryk did not look much elated. But he bowed to Jennifer. "May that happiness be mine, madam?" "Th--thank you," stammered Jennifer. "If you please!" Sir Deryk bowed again and straightway forgot her existence. "You wear my primroses, fairest!" he said to Cleone. "I scarce dared to hope so modest a posy would be so honoured." Cleone glanced down at the pale yellow blooms. "Oh, are they yours? I had forgot," she said cruelly. "Ah, Cleone!" Cleone raised her brows. "My name, sir?" "Mistress Cleone," corrected Brenderby, bowing.