After many tender inquiries after its health from the chauffeur, Bertie sprang into the motor with Woodville, and they started off. "I say, Woodville," began Bertie, as they spun along, "I want to talk about Lady Chetwode. I'm awfully in love with her." "Didn't know you knew her." "I don't. That's nothing to do with it. You can be awfully in love with a person you don't know. In fact, I believe _I_ can be far more seriously devoted to a perfect stranger than to a woman I know personally. But I've often seen her at the Opera. And I'm _going_ to know her. I'm going to be brought to your party to-morrow night by Mrs. Ogilvie. Didn't you know? Tell me, why isn't Chetwode ever _there_?" "Don't be an ass! They're devoted to each other. Turtle-doves aren't in it." Bertie's eyes sparkled. "I _know_! I suppose he stays away for fear of her getting tired of him. Quaint idea. Never been done before quite like that. Well, it may be very clever, but I shouldn't do it! Frankly, I should always be there or thereabouts, at all risks! You don't seem to understand (knowing them so intimately, of course you wouldn't) what Lady Chetwode is going to be. Why, she's simply _the_ person already. I hear of her everywhere, and the sister, Miss Crofton; I saw her too the other night. She's quite beautiful. I don't believe they know what to do with her." "What on earth do you mean?" said Woodville. "My dear boy, I have my faults, but I have one little gift, and that is a _flair_ for success. It will be all very well for Miss Sylvia to marry the Greek man to begin with----" "Do you propose she should marry any one else to go on with then?" "Don't be absurd. I mean, of course, that would start her, and so on. He's a friend of exalted personages and that sort of thing, and it would certainly bring her forward. Although I think she could do better. But she ought to come out in tableaux or something and be really seen, quite soon; while she's a novelty." "I really think there's something wrong with your tonneau," said Woodville. Bertie smiled cheerfully. "Don't worry, my chauffeur's one of the best drivers in London. But, about tableaux; next month at Worcester House----" "Miss Crofton doesn't care about that sort of thing," said Woodville. "No? I heard she had rather a line of her own. What is her pose? She ought to settle on it. You know there is nothing so uncomfortable as not having settled on one's pose. Oh!" Bertie gave a start. "I beg your pardon. I see the whole thing! But of course! You're in love with her. What a fool I am!" "You are indeed. I see very little of Miss Crofton. You're generally positive, and always wrong."