"Of course. Look here, don't tell any one--not even yourself--but I'm wearing the little locket after all." The kiss was short but disturbing. As they came down to earth with a shock, they saw, looking at them steadily through the half-open window, Mr. Ridokanaki. He seemed interested. At a look from Sylvia Mr. Woodville faded away, feeling as if he were sneaking off. Sylvia went indoors. "Good evening, Miss Crofton," said the harsh yet sympathetic pleasant voice; "I have been seeking you since this half-hour.... I was coming to ask if I might have the great honour of taking you to supper. Of course, it is an immense privilege--far more than I might expect. Still, may I venture to hope?" "With pleasure," said Sylvia. She took his arm. "It is very kind of you, Miss Crofton. What a very interesting face that young man has!" "Which young man?" Sylvia asked innocently. "The young man who was in the garden. I am sure he is clever. Your father's--er--secretary, I think? _What_ did you say his name was, again?" "His name is Mr. Woodville. Yes, I think he is clever. Quite an old friend, you know," Sylvia added rather lamely. * * * * * One could see no difference in the Greek, since he talked on in his usual urbane way, and made no allusion of any sort the whole evening, either to the floral tribute he had sent, to his letter to Sir James, or to the little scene he had interrupted. In the supper-room all was gaiety and laughter. "How hollow all this sort of thing is, isn't it?" said De Valdez, presenting Felicity with a plover's egg, as he passed carrying a plate laden with them to some one else. "They do seem rather hungry, don't they? But why aren't you eating any supper, Mr. Wilton?" Having done her duty to all her old friends, Felicity was occupying herself very congenially by steadily bowling over a completely new young man. It was Bertie Wilton, whom Mrs. Ogilvie had brought on the grounds that he could have danced if it had been a dance, and that he was the son of Lady Nora Wilton. Felicity was very much pleased with his condition. It seemed most promising, considering she had known him about a quarter of an hour. "Supper! I should think two hot plates, one strawberry, and a sip of champagne more than enough for a person who is falling every moment more and more--Don't take that plover's egg, Lady Chetwode! It isn't fair! You have given me the sole right to provide for you this evening, and that man has no business to come interfering. Let him attend to his own affairs." "He only dropped one plover's egg on my plate, as an old friend--out of kindness! He meant no harm," pleaded Felicity.