"You? But she is to wed Brenderby!" "Ah, but no! that is at an end. Brenderby releases her. He is not so bad a man as you think. _En effet_, I like him." "I loathe the sight of him, drawling fop!" "To-day I have seen him in another light. But that is not what I have to say. Cleone does not wish to marry you, _mon enfant_, and it is churlish to persist." "I know she'll never marry me," answered James gloomily. "I only held her to her word because I thought she'd have Brenderby if I did not." "I understand. You'll release her--for me?" "I suppose so. Why did you say naught last night?" "There were reasons. They no longer exist. Come, Jamie, don't look so glum! You are young yet." "It's easy to say that. Oh, I knew I never had a chance with her! I congratulate you, Philip." Philip pressed his arm. "My thanks. You're very generous! And now I must fly!" "Where? May I accompany you?" "Again many thanks, but no! I have an engagement. _Au revoir, mon cher!_" Nineteen Philip Justifies His Chin Once more Lady Malmerstoke's page went up to the boudoir. "Mistah Philip Jettan is below, m'lady!" Up started Cleone. "I will not see him! Aunt Sarah, I beg you will go to him! Please spare me this--humiliation!" Lady Malmerstoke waved her aside. "Admit him, Sambo. Yes, here. Cleone, control yourself!" "I can't see him! I can't! I can't! How _can_ I face him?" "Turn your back, then," said her unsympathetic aunt. "I wonder what he has done?" "D-do you think he--could have--arranged everything?" asked Cleone, with a gleam of hope. "From what I have seen of him, I should say yes. A masterful young man, my dear. Else why that chin?" She moved to the door. Philip came in, immaculate as ever. "Ah, Philip!" Philip shot a look past her. Cleone had fled to the window. He bent and kissed Lady Malmerstoke's hand. "_Bonjour, madame!_" He held open the door and bowed. Her ladyship laughed. "What! Turning me from my own boudoir?" "If you please, madame." "Aunt--Sarah!" The whisper came from the window. Philip smiled faintly. "Madame...." "Oh, that chin!" said her ladyship, and patted it. She went out and Philip closed the door behind her. Cleone's fingers clasped one another desperately. Her heart seemed to have jumped into her throat. It almost choked her. She dared not look round. She heard the rustle of Philip's coat-skirts. Never, never had she felt so ashamed, or so frightened. "Your devoted servant, mademoiselle!" Cleone could not speak. She stood where she was, trembling uncontrollably. "I have the honour of informing you, mademoiselle, that you are released from your engagements." Was there a note of laughter in the prim voice? "I--thank you--sir," whispered Cleone. Her teeth clenched in an effort to keep back the tears. She was blinded by them, and her bosom was heaving. There was a slight pause. Why did he not go? Did he wish to see her still more humiliated?