When the guests had gone Cleone felt as though her head were full of fire. Her cheeks burned, her eyes were glittering. Lady Malmerstoke looked at her. "You are hot, my love. Open the window." Cleone obeyed, cooling her cheeks against the glass panes. "How very shy that child is!" remarked my lady. "Jenny? Yes. Very, is she not?" "I thought Sir Deryk might have noticed her a little more than he did." "He had no chance, had he? She was quite monopolised." Her ladyship cast a shrewd glance towards the back of Cleone's head. She smiled unseen. "Well, my love, to turn to other matters, which is it to be--Philip or Sir Deryk?" Cleone started. "What do you mean, Aunt? Which is it to _be_?" "Which are you going to smile upon? You have given both a deal of encouragement. I don't count young James, of course. He's a babe." "Please, please--" "I don't like Sir Deryk. No, I don't like him at all. He has no true politeness, or he would have talked a little more to me, or to Jenny. Which do you intend to wed, my dear?" "Neither?" "My dear Cleone!" Her ladyship was shocked. "Then why do you encourage them to make love to you? Now be advised by me! Have Sir Deryk!" Cleone gave a trembling laugh. "I thought you did not like him?" "No more I do. But that's not to say he'd make a bad husband. On the contrary. He'd let you do as you please, and he'd not be for ever pestering you with his presence." "For these very reasons I'll none of him!" "Then that leaves Philip?" Cleone whirled about. "Whom I would not marry were he the last man in the world!" "Luckily he is not. Don't be so violent, my dear." Cleone stood for a moment, irresolute. Then she burst into tears and ran out of the room. Lady Malmerstoke leaned back against the cushions and closed her eyes. "There's hope for you yet, Philip," she remarked, and prepared to go to sleep. It was not to be. Barely five minutes later Sir Maurice was ushered into the room. Her ladyship sat up, a hand to her wig. "Really, Maurice, you should know better than to take a woman unawares!" she said severely. "Your family has been in and out the house all the morning. What's the matter now?" Sir Maurice kissed her hand. "First, my heartiest congratulations, Sarah! I have just seen Tom." If a lady could grin, Sarah Malmerstoke grinned then. "Thank you, Maurice. And how did you find Tom?" "Quite incoherent," said Sir Maurice. "He has talked a deal of nonsense about love-passions belonging only to the young, but I never saw a man so madly elated in my life." "How nice!" sighed my lady blissfully. "And what's your second point?" Sir Maurice walked to the fire and stared into it. "Sally, it's Cleone." "Dear me! What's to do?" "If anyone can help me, it's you," he began. Her ladyship held up her hands. "No, Maurice, no! You're too old!" "You ridiculous woman!" He smiled a little. "Does she care for Philip, or does she not?"