"You were mistaken. When a thing like this happens--a genuine _coup-de-foudre_--a man is only a fool who doesn't face it and admit it at once. I care for you really, though I haven't known you--very long. I'll cut it out of my life unless you give me ever such a distant hope that you will--like me--too." "Will you look at my husband's photograph, Mr. Wilton? He's really very handsome--and particularly amusing. We've been married just thirteen months." "An unlucky number! Yes, I know he's handsome--and, no doubt, delightful. But he isn't here." "What's that got to do with it?" "Everything. You know he might be here--with you, and he's not." "That's his business." "And mine!" audaciously answered the young man. "Will you please not take my hand, and recollect that I'm not a housemaid 'walking out' with her young man?" He did not obey her. "I should never have suspected you of such bank-holiday manners," she said, at once amused and angry. "You can call it bank-holiday or anything you like--and if you don't like it I'm sorry, but really you deserve it! You may drive people mad with your little ways, and they may stand it if they like. I can't." Evidently Mr. Wilton was losing his head. It was quite interesting. "I saw from the first that firmness is my only chance with you," he said half apologetically. He then made the terrible mistake of trying to kiss her. She slid away like an acrobat, pressed the electric bell, and sat down again with a heightened colour. "I beg your pardon," said Wilton humbly. "I know it was very wrong. I couldn't help it. You needn't ring and turn me out of the house,--I'll go." "I wasn't going to." Greenstock appeared. "Please bring a glass of iced-water," said Felicity in clear crystal tones. "Oh, Lady Chetwode!" During the moment's somewhat awkward interval Felicity stroked up her hair and looked tenderly at Lord Chetwode's photograph. When the iced-water was brought in he drank it. She burst out laughing. "What a penance! Just after tea! Well, I'll forgive you this once only. I think it unspeakable. You're of course very young, so you shall have another chance. You never will be like that again, will you?" He stood up. "I never will. I'm very sorry. I quite understand. I can see you are accustomed to invertebrate admirers who spoil you. I made a mistake, because you see I don't happen to be one." "Chetwode isn't invertebrate!" Bertie bowed. "Ah, I dare say not. Of that I have no kind of doubt. But you see, he's not here. He's never here. Good-bye." He took his leave in a very final manner. Felicity thought over the question with interest. She was sure she would never see Wilton again. Why was Chetwode always away like this? Everybody noticed it. * * * * * When Felicity came back from the St. James's Theatre that night she thought that she was a little in love with Bertie Wilton. But she knew she wasn't. CHAPTER IX A DINNER AT WILLIS'S