"Ah, how right he was!" said Jasmyn absently, eating a very large one. "I suppose he didn't care for _primeurs_. Personally, I admit that I am absolutely sick of asparagus by April, but I think it best to eat and drink as much as possible because I suffer so terribly from depression." "Depression! Yes, you would. Having everything on earth you want, and being thoroughly spoilt, like all men of the present day, you would naturally have low spirits." "Ah, I dare say you don't believe me. But I assure you, Mrs. Crofton, that under all my outward misery I generally have an aching heart.... How lovely Lady Chetwode's looking!" "Lady Chetwode," said Aunt William loyally, "is a most brilliant woman. Her sister is a beautiful girl, and her brother Savile is doing well at Eton. His last report----" "Do you know, I'm terribly frightened of Savile," said Jasmyn. "He's such a man of the world that I feel positively crude beside him." Before the end of the evening, Ridokanaki took an opportunity to ask if Woodville would dine with him. "I want to have a little talk with you," he said. "I have an idea--it may be perfectly wrong--that what I have to say may interest you." Woodville accepted; surprised at his rival's cordiality. "At Willis's, then, at eight, Mr. Woodville?" "At eight. Thanks very much." CHAPTER VIII FELICITY AND HER CLIENTS When Felicity woke up in her enormous, over-draped, over-decorated, gilded, carved, and curved bed she was immediately as wide awake as though she had been up several hours. There was no slow rousing to the realities of life, no sleepy yawning or languid return from a land of dreams. She dashed the hair out of her eyes, at once put on her glasses (for in private she was short-sighted), and began immediately and systematically to tell her fortune by cards. She did this regularly every morning. It was a preliminary to her day's campaign, when Everett came in with the tea and letters, drew aside the heavy blue curtains, embroidered all over with gold fleur-de-lys, and let in a ray of April sunshine. According to her usual practice, Felicity kept up a running commentary on her correspondence. "From darling Chetwode.--'My own beautiful little angel, It is quite'--what's this? hop-picking? no--'heart-breaking that I can't get back to you for another week. Tobacco Trust was beaten by a short head, as of course you know, but Onlooker is a dead certainty for to-morrow. Will wire result. "'I saw a most marvellous old cabinet in a cottage near here'--he _would_!--'an extraordinary bargain. It will just go in the corner of----'" She put the four closely written sheets down and opened some more envelopes. "'Lady Virginia Creeper at home. Five to seven.' Well, I can't help it. Let her stop at home. It's the best place for her.