roposed to her when she was
in London if he'd thought her success established."

"Nonsense!" Di broke out, her cheeks very pink. "As if Ivor were the
kind of man to think of such a thing!"

"He isn't very rich, and he is very ambitious. It would be bad for him
to marry a poor girl, or a girl who wasn't well connected socially. He
_has_ to think of such things."

I watched the effect of these words, with my eyes half shut; for of
course Di has all her mother's money, two hundred thousand English
pounds; and through the Mountstuarts, and her aunt who is married to the
Foreign Secretary, she has got to know all the best people in England.
Besides, the King and Queen have been particularly nice to her since she
was presented, so she has the run of their special set, as well as the
political and artistic, and "old-fashioned exclusive" ones.

"Ivor Dundas is a law unto himself," she said, "and he has plenty of
good connections of his own. He'll have a little money, too, some day,
from an aunt or a god-mother, I believe. Anyway, he and Miss de Renzie
had nothing more than a flirtation. Aunt Lilian told me so. She said
Maxine was rather proud to have Ivor dangling about, because everyone
likes him, and because his travels and his book were being a lot talked
about just then. Naturally, he admired her, because she's beautiful, and
a very great actress--"

"Oh, your Aunt Lilian would make little of the affair," I laughed. "She
flirts with him herself."

"Why, Lisa, Aunt Lilian's over forty, and he's twenty-nine!"

"Forty isn't the end of the world for a woman, nowadays. She's a beauty
and a great lady. Ivor always wants the best of everything. She flirts
with him, and he with her."

Di laughed too, but only to make it seem as if she didn't care. "You'd
better not say such silly things to Uncle Eric," she said, staring at
the pattern of the cornice. "Aren't those funny, gargoyley faces up
there? I never noticed them before. But oh--about Mr. Dundas and Maxine
de Renzie--I don't think, really, that he troubles himself much about
her any more, for the other day I--I happened to ask what she was
playing in Paris now, and he didn't know. He said he hadn't been over to
see her act, as it was too far away, and he was afraid when he wasn't
too busy, he was too lazy."

"He _said_ so to you, of course. But when he spends Saturday to Monday
at Folkestone with the godmother who's going to leave him her money, how
easy to slip over