His eyes flashed. "Often! But I have never till now made a public appearance at St James's. Court costume and 'company manners' make a difference to the looks of most men,--and I doubt,--yes, I very much doubt, whether, even with his reputed excellent memory for faces, the Prince really knew me to-day for what I am!" XVII It must have been about a week or ten days after the Prince of Wales's Levée that I had the strange scene with Sibyl Elton I am about to relate; a scene that left a painful impression on my mind and should have been sufficient to warn me of impending trouble to come had I not been too egotistical to accept any portent that presaged ill to myself. Arriving at Lord Elton's house one evening, and ascending the stairs to the drawing-room as was now my usual custom, unannounced and without ceremony, I found Diana Chesney there alone and in tears. "Why, what's the matter?" I exclaimed in a rallying tone, for I was on very friendly and familiar terms with the little American--"You, of all people in the world, having a private 'weep'! Has our dear railway papa 'bust up'?" She laughed, a trifle hysterically. "Not just yet, you bet!" she answered, lifting her wet eyes to mine and showing that mischief still sparkled brightly in them,--"There's nothing wrong with the funds as far as I know. I've only had a,----well, a sort of rumpus here with Sibyl." "With Sibyl?" "Yes,"--and she rested the point of her little embroidered shoe on a footstool and looked at it critically--"You see it's the Catsup's 'At Home' to-night, and I'm invited and Sibyl's invited; Miss Charlotte is knocked up with nursing the Countess, and of course I made sure that Sibyl would go. Well, she never said a word about it till she came down to dinner, and then she asked me what time I wanted the carriage. I said 'Aren't you going too?' and she looked at me in that provoking way of hers,--_you_ know!--a look that takes you in from your topmost hair to your shoe-edge,--and answered 'Did you think it possible!' Well, I flared up, and said of course I thought it possible,--why shouldn't it be possible? She looked at me in the same way again and said--'To the _Catsups_? with _you_!' Now, you know, Mr Tempest, that was real downright rudeness, and more than I could stand so I just gave way to my mind. 'Look here,' I said--'though you are the daughter of an Earl, you needn't turn up your nose at Mrs Catsup. She isn't half bad,--I don't speak of her money,--but she's a real good sort, and has a kind heart, which it appears to me is more than you have. Mrs Catsup would never treat me as unkindly as you do.' And then I choked,--I could have burst out in a regular yell, if I hadn't thought the footman might be outside the door listening. And Sibyl only smiled, that patent ice-refrigerator smile of hers, and asked--'would you prefer to live with Mrs Catsup?' Of course I told her no,--nothing would induce me to live with Mrs Catsup,