"Punctually about four," Felicity said. "Don't forget, Savile!" "Righto! I'll bring Dolly and take her back. I say, shall we have tea there?" "Of course, if you want to. Why fancy, Frank said it would be the greatest joke to _dine_ there! You can, you know, if you like; wouldn't it be fun, and ghastly, with Byron and Peace, and Sir Campbell-Bannerman, and people like that, looking on?" "No it wouldn't. These ghastly jokes never come off. They last too long. While you're about it, have a good dinner for Heaven's sake. And I dare say the people at the Savoy are quite as bad--if that's all--if you only knew, and more up to date." "Yes, very likely, and people at real places often have no more expression than the waxworks. But, Savile, I thought it was all off between you and Dolly now?" He answered, with a sigh, "So it is, in a way, but you'll learn in this life, old girl, that you must take what you can get--especially if you're not sure you can get it! Mind you," lowering his voice, "that little foreign bounder, de Saules, isn't going to have it all his own way." "Oh," Sylvia, being in good spirits, was inclined to tease him, "I should have thought it would be a capital opportunity to show an intelligent foreigner the sights of London!" "The intelligent foreigners _are_ the sights of London," said Savile as he went out. The same morning Vera rustled into her friend's room, with her usual air of vagueness and devotion, and said with a sort of despairing cry-- "Oh, Felicity darling! you're the only person in the world who always has clothes for every occasion, and knows everything. How on earth does one dress for Tussaud's? Should you regard it as a Private View, or treat it more like--say--Princes'?" "Neither. Why on earth Princes'? Were you thinking of bringing your skates?" "Don't be absurd. Then I had better not wear my new Paquin?" "Certainly not. Nothing trailing, or showy. But for Heaven's sake don't dress for skating or bicycling. I fancy there is a notice up to say you can't do either of those things there. And please not too much of your Oriental embroideries." "Well, my new tailor-made dress then, and a large hat?" Felicity laughed. "My dear girl, what does it matter? If you fondly imagine that any one will look at your dress while there are _real_ horrors to see----!" "Darling little creature!" said Vera, who absolutely idolised Felicity, and looked up to her in the most absurd way, although she was five years younger--often taking her ironical advice quite literally, and regarding her as a rare combination of faultless angel, brilliant genius, and perfect beauty. "And now," said Felicity, standing up to her full height--which was far from imposing--"_Go_, please, Vera! I expect the hairdresser." "Oh, then, you're taking a little trouble, after all," Vera said, laughing, and she vanished vaguely, behind a brocaded _portière_, leaving a very faint perfume of gilliflower.