Lady Malmerstoke chose that moment at which to billow into the room. She leaned on the arm of one Mr. Jettan. "Philip, you are a sad fellow! You do not mean one word of what you say! Oh, lud! I have chanced on a reception. Give ye good den, Jenny, my dear. Sir Deryk? Thus early in the morning? I think you know Mr. Jettan?" The two men bowed. "I have the pleasure, Lady Malmerstoke," said Brenderby. "I did not see you last night, Jettan? You were not at Gregory's card-party?" "Last night?--last night? No, I was at White's with my father. Mademoiselle, your very obedient! _Et la petite!_" "_Bonjour, monsieur!_" ventured Jennifer shyly. Philip swept her a leg. "_Mademoiselle a fait des grands progrès_," he said. She wrinkled her brow. "Great--progress?" she hazarded. "Of course! And how is mademoiselle?" "Very well, I thank you, sir." Lady Malmerstoke sank into a large armchair. "Well, I trust I don't intrude?" she remarked. "Clo, where is my embroidery?" She turned to her guests. "I never set a stitch, of course. It would fatigue me too much. But it looks industrious to have it by me, doesn't it?" Cleone and Brenderby had walked to the table in search of the missing embroidery. Cleone looked over her shoulder. "You must not believe what she says," she told them. "Aunt Sarah embroiders beautifully. She is not nearly as lazy as she would have you think." "Not lazy, my love--indolent. A much nicer word. Thank you, my dear." She received her stitchery and laid it down. "I will tell you all a secret. Oh, Philip knows! Philip, you need not listen." Philip was perched on a chair-arm. "A million thanks, Aunt!" "That is very unkind of you!" she reproached him. "You tell my secret before ever I have time to say a word!" "_Eh bien!_ You should not have suggested that I did not want to listen to your voice." "When I am, indeed, your aunt, I shall talk to you very seriously about flattering old women," she said severely. Cleone clapped her hands. "Oh, Aunt Sally! You are going to wed Mr. Jettan?" "One of them," nodded her aunt. "I gather that this one"--she smiled up at Philip--"is going to wed Someone Else. And I do not think I would have him in any case." "And now who is unkind?" cried Philip. "I've a mind to run away with you as you enter the church!" Cold fear was stealing through Cleone. Mechanically she congratulated her aunt. Through a haze she heard Brenderby's voice and Jennifer's. So Philip was going to marry Someone Else? No doubt it was Ann Nutley, the designing minx! When Philip came presently to her side she was gayer than ever, sparkling with merriment, and seemingly without a care in the world. She drew Sir Deryk into the conversation, flirting outrageously. She parried all Philip's sallies and laughed at Sir Deryk's witticisms. Then Philip went to talk to Jennifer. A pair of hungry, angry, jealous, and would-be careless blue eyes followed him and grew almost hard.