cy of a mere boy!
Boys like anybody."

"Van isn't genuine like Cyril," said Daphne.

"Who on earth's Cyril?"

"Captain Foster."

Valentia walked round the room and then said--

"And you really suppose you're going to adore him all your life?"

"I _suppose_ so. I really don't know. I know about now. Oh, Valentia, be
a darling and let him come to the fancy ball with us." She kissed her.
"And, oh, do tell Harry to explain to Van that it can't go on, that he
must put it out of his head. Do, darling Valentia. Any well-brought-up
young girl will do for him just as well!"

"And wouldn't any well-brought-up young girl do for Cyril?"

"I don't know. But only Cyril will do for me. Oh! the jolly way he has
of saying 'Righto' and 'You're all right,' and calling me 'little girl!'
Oh, he _is_ a dear!"

"Oh, well, if he says such brilliant things as _that_!"

"It isn't what he _says_----"

"Oh, hush, Daphne, here is Romer. I shan't tell him a word about it.
Well, I'll think it over." She called Daphne back and said in a
half-hearted way--

"I suppose it wouldn't do just to sort of please Harry by marrying Van,
and then seeing that silly boy now and then. You'd so soon get tired of
him--but, no! that wouldn't be right. Forget that I said it--I don't
mean it."

"I couldn't stand Van at all," said Daphne definitely, "whether I saw
Cyril or not."

"Then you shan't be bothered with him. But can't you give up Cyril? I
know I'm right about it. It isn't only the hard-upness and the
impossibility--of course, I know he's got relations and all that--but,
it's he himself. You'll get bored with him, too, in a different way."

"I like him so much _now_," pleaded Daphne.

Romer came in and Valentia merely told him at great length every word of
the foregoing conversation with lavish comments by herself. Secretly
Romer was bitterly disappointed when he realised that the possibility of
his being left alone with his wife was more remote, but of course he
agreed with Valentia, as she changed her mind a dozen times on the
subject, and as usual the conversation ended in a telephone message to
Harry to come round at once.

CHAPTER VIII

IN FANCY DRESS

Van Buren had had many pleasures, many gratifications since he had been
in London; his dreams--the dreams inspired by Du Maurier's drawings when
he was a little boy--had been very nearly realised. Perhaps the greatest
triumph that he had had yet was the evening of the Artists