Millicent entered into the thing in the right spirit. Whatever the future might hold for her--and she trusted that it might be full of millinery--she was determined to enjoy the living present to its utmost. Her life at this time was a whirl of excitement--excitement of the keenest order--namely, trying on. “You do not know what it is,” she said, with a happy little sigh, to those among her friends who probably never would, “to stand the whole day long being pinned into linings by Madame Videpoche.” And despite the sigh, she did it with an angelic sweetness of temper which quite touched the heart of Madame Videpoche, while making no difference in the bill. Lady Cantourne would not have been human had she assumed the neutral in this important matter. She frankly enjoyed it all immensely. “You know, Sir John,” she said in confidence to him one day at Hurlingham, “I have always dressed Millicent.” “You need not tell me that,” he interrupted gracefully. “On ne peut s'y tromper.” “And,” she went on almost apologetically, “whatever my own feelings on the subject may be, I cannot abandon her now. The world expects much from Millicent Chyne. I have taught it to do so. It will expect more from Millicent--Meredith.” The old gentleman bowed in his formal way. “And the world must not be disappointed,” he suggested cynically. “No,” she answered, with an energetic little nod, “it must not. That is the way to manage the world. Give it what it expects; and just a little more to keep its attention fixed.” Sir John tapped with his gloved finger pensively on the knob of his silver-mounted cane. “And may I ask your ladyship,” he inquired suavely, “what the world expects of me?” He knew her well enough to know that she never made use of the method epigrammatic without good reason. “A diamond crescent,” she answered stoutly. “The fashion-papers must be able to write about the gift of the bridegroom's father.” “Ah--and they prefer a diamond crescent?” “Yes,” answered Lady Cantourne. “That always seems to satisfy them.” He bowed gravely and continued to watch the polo with that marvellously youthful interest which was his. “Does the world expect anything else?” he asked presently. “No, I think not,” replied Lady Cantourne, with a bright little absent smile. “Not just now.” “Will you tell me if it does?” He had risen; for there were other great ladies on the ground to whom he must pay his old-fashioned respects. “Certainly,” she answered, looking up at him. “I should deem it a favour,” he continued. “If the world does not get what it expects, I imagine it will begin to inquire why; and if it cannot find reasons it will make them.” In due course the diamond crescent arrived.