When the men came upstairs, she again enjoyed a triumph. Men and women crowded round her and ministered instinctively to her talk. All the pent-up emotions, longings, laughter of years found torrential utterance. Powersfoot, standing over her was amazed to discover how shapely were her bare arms and how full and graceful her neck and shoulders. Quixtus talked for a few moments with the spotless flower of womanhood. In the stiff formality of the drawing-room she regained her individuality. With a resumption of her air of possession she patted a vacant seat on the couch beside her and invited him to sit down. He obeyed. “I thought you were going to neglect me altogether,” she said. He protested courteously. They sparred a little. Then Wilmour-Jackson, polished and opulent, eye-glass in eye, crossed over to the couch and Quixtus, rising with an eagerness that made Lena Fontaine bite her lip, yielded him the seat and joined the charmed circle around Clementina. A little thrill of pleasure passed through him as she glanced a welcome. He gazed at her, fascinated. Something magnetic, feminine, he was too confused to know what, emanated from her and held him bound. Never in all the years of his knowledge of her had she appealed to him in this extraordinary manner. Why had the perfect neck and arms, the graceful figure been hidden under shapeless garments? Why had the magnificence of her hair never been revealed? Why had grim frown and tightened lips locked within the features the laughter that now played about them? Once he had seen her face illuminated—at the hotel in Marseilles—but then it was with generous and noble feeling and he had forgotten the disfiguring attire. But now she had the stateliness of a queen, and men hung around her, irresistibly attracted. . . . At last Lady Radfield disentangled her lord and departed. Others followed her example. The party broke up, with the curious suddenness of London. In a brief interval between adieux, Quixtus and Clementina found themselves alone together. “Well?” she asked. “Are you pleased?” “Pleased? What a word! I’m dumfounded. I’ve been blind and my eyes are open. I never knew you before.” “Because I have a decent gown on? I couldn’t do less.” “Because,” said he, “I never knew what a beautiful woman you were.” The blood flew to her dark cheeks. She touched his arm, and looked at him. “Do you really think I look nice?” His reply was cut short by the Quinns coming up to take leave, but she read it on his face. The room thinned. Lena Fontaine came up. “It’s getting late. I must rescue Louisa and go. Your dinner-party was quite a success, Dr. Quixtus.” “So glad you think so,” said Clementina. “Especially now that I hear you were originally responsible for it. It was most kind of you to think of our dear young people. But don’t go yet. Lady Louisa is quite happy with Mr. Griffiths. He is feeding her with facts. Let us sit down for a minute or two and chat comfortably.”