I knew that! The blue tea-gown, with the pink roses, and the lace cap, and the bad cold were not for nothing. (I wish I had not written this, it is spiteful of me, and I am not spiteful as a rule. It must be the east wind.) _Thursday night, Nov. 24th._ “Now that you have embarked upon this,” Lady Ver said, when I ventured into her sitting-room, hearing no voices, about six o’clock (Mr. Carruthers had left me at the door, at the end of our walk, and I had been with the angels at tea ever since), “Now that you have embarked upon this opera, I say, you will have to dine at Willis’s with us. I won’t be in when Charlie arrives from Paris. A windy day, like to-day, his temper is sure to be impossible.” “Very well,” I said. Of what use after all for an adventuress like me to have sensitive feelings. “And I am leaving this house at a quarter to seven. I wish you to know, Evangeline, pet!” she called after me, as I flew off to dress. As a rule Lady Ver takes a good hour to make herself into the attractive darling she is in the evening--she has not to do much, because she is lovely by nature; but she potters, and squabbles with Welby, to divert herself, I suppose. However, to-night, with the terror upon her of a husband fresh from a rough Channel passage, going to arrive at seven o’clock, she was actually dressed and down in the hall when I got there, punctually at 6.45, and in the twinkle of an eye we were rolling in the electric to Willis’s. I have only been there once before, and that to lunch in Mrs. Carruthers’ days with some of the Ambassadors, and it does feel gay going to a restaurant at night. I felt more excited than ever in my life, and such a situation, too. Lord Robert--_fruit défendu!_ and Mr. Carruthers _empressé_, and to be kept in bounds! More than enough to fill the hands of a maiden of sixteen, fresh from a convent, as old Count Someroff used to say when he wanted to express a really difficult piece of work. They were waiting for us just inside the door, and again I noticed that they were both lovely creatures, and both exceptionally distinguished looking. Lady Ver nodded to a lot of people before we took our seats in a nice little corner. She must have an agreeable time with so many friends. She said something which sounds so true in one of our talks, and I thought of it then. “It is wiser to marry the life you like, because, after a little, the man doesn’t matter.” She has evidently done that--but I wish it could be possible to have both--the Man and the Life!--Well! Well! One has to sit rather close on those sofas, and as Lord Robert was not the host, he was put by me. The other two at a right angle to us. I felt exquisitely gay--in spite of having an almost high black dress on, and not even any violets!