A magnetic attraction rises between them. Eleanor forgets her surroundings. She only remembers him. At last her eyes fall on the door, and remain transfixed in that direction. Giddy Mounteagle, in a costume of wide black and white stripes and leopard's skin cloak, followed by her youthful _fiance_, enters the restaurant. "Bad luck!" exclaims Eleanor, turning to Carol; "look!" He re-echoes her deep sigh as Giddy advances. "I hate her seeing me here with you," Mrs. Roche declares. "She is a bad enemy, and now that we are hardly on speaking terms I dare not think what horrible stories she may not spread against me." "Why not make it up, for the sake of our friendship, Eleanor? She could often help us to meet, you know." "Never, after the way she treated me!" declares Mrs. Roche, drawing herself up as Mrs. Mounteagle approaches. "Hulloa! _you_ here?" she cries in a rather bantering, insolent tone, and raising her finely pencilled eyebrows till they are lost to view under her fringe. She pats Carol playfully on the shoulder, pretending not to notice the stiffness of Eleanor's bow. Bertie shakes hands with Mrs. Roche, and they seat themselves at the next table. Eleanor turns her back, and becomes deeply interested in what Carol is telling her. They talk loudly on politics for Giddy's benefit. "How spiteful she looked," whispers Eleanor at last. "Oh, I don't know. You see you gave her the cold shoulder a bit." "Do you think she noticed it?" "Rather. She is as sharp as a needle." "I think her hat is atrocious. It makes me tremble when I remember how I relied on her taste. Those enormous black and white feathers, pinned in crazy fashion with paste brooches, are horribly vulgar." "Do you see that red-headed man just coming in?" says Carol. "Yes. Who is he?" "Eccott--a tremendously wealthy man, and a great financier. I expect your husband knows him." "Eccott--why, of course! I have often heard Philip speak of him. The name is quite familiar to me, and now I come to think of it he is living here at the Savoy. Philip often dines with him." "And lunches?" asks Quinton hastily. Eccott is speaking to the head waiter, and evidently looking for a friend. Eleanor can see down the long passage. Suddenly her heart sinks; the palms of her hands grow cold. "Philip is there!" she says under her breath. "What will you do?" whispers Quinton. "I--I don't know." "Tell Giddy," he urges; "make the quarrel up now, take her into your confidence, pretend you are together." "Place myself in her hands? Oh, Carol, it would be too humiliating!" Involuntarily she calls him by his Christian name. "Self-justification is so embarrassing and unsatisfactory, and some excuse must be made for our appearing here together, unless you take my advice. He has not seen you yet, there is still time." Thus Quinton urges the unwilling Eleanor to follow his suggestion.