" he asked harshly. "In three weeks' time I shall be
fifty years old."

She laughed softly.

"And in no time at all I shall be thirty--and entering upon a terrible
period of spinsterhood!"

"Spinsterhood!" he scoffed. "Why, whenever the Society papers are at a
loss for a paragraph, they report a few more offers of marriage to the
ever-beautiful Lady Cynthia."

"Don't be sarcastic," she begged. "I haven't yet had the offer of
marriage I want, anyhow."

"You'll get one you don't want in a moment," he warned her.

She made a little grimace.

"Don't!" she laughed nervously. "How am I to preserve my romantic
notions of you as the emperor of the criminal world, if you kiss me as
you did just now--you kissed me rather well--and then ask me to marry
you? It isn't your role. You must light a cigarette now, pat the back of
my hand, and swagger off to another of your haunts of vice."

"In other words, I am not to propose?" Sir Timothy said slowly.

"You see how decadent I am," she sighed. "I want to toy with my
pleasures. Besides, there's that scamp of a brother of mine coming up
to have a drink--I saw him get out of a taxi--and you couldn't get it
through in time, not with dignity."

The rattle of the lift as it stopped was plainly audible. He stooped and
kissed her fingers.

"I fear some day," he murmured, "I shall be a great disappointment to
you."

CHAPTER XXVIII

There was a great deal of discussion, the following morning at the
Sheridan Club, during the gossipy half-hour which preceded luncheon,
concerning Sir Timothy Brast's forthcoming entertainment. One of the
men, Philip Baker, who had been for many years the editor of a famous
sporting weekly, had a ticket of invitation which he displayed to an
envious little crowd.

"You fellows who get invitations to these parties," a famous actor
declared, "are the most elusive chaps on earth. Half London is dying
to know what really goes on there, and yet, if by any chance one comes
across a prospective or retrospective guest, he is as dumb about it as
though it were some Masonic function. We've got you this time, Baler,
though. We'll put you under the inquisition on Friday morning."

"There a won't be any need," the other replied. "One hears a great deal
of rot talked about these affairs, but so far as I know, nothing very
much out of the way goes on. There are always one or two pretty stiff
fights in the gymnasium, and you get the best variety show and