's somewhat awkward interval Felicity stroked up her
hair and looked tenderly at Lord Chetwode's photograph.

When the iced-water was brought in he drank it.

She burst out laughing.

"What a penance! Just after tea! Well, I'll forgive you this once only.
I think it unspeakable. You're of course very young, so you shall have
another chance. You never will be like that again, will you?"

He stood up.

"I never will. I'm very sorry. I quite understand. I can see you are
accustomed to invertebrate admirers who spoil you. I made a mistake,
because you see I don't happen to be one."

"Chetwode isn't invertebrate!"

Bertie bowed. "Ah, I dare say not. Of that I have no kind of doubt. But
you see, he's not here. He's never here. Good-bye."

He took his leave in a very final manner.

Felicity thought over the question with interest. She was sure she would
never see Wilton again. Why was Chetwode always away like this?
Everybody noticed it.

* * * * *

When Felicity came back from the St. James's Theatre that night she
thought that she was a little in love with Bertie Wilton. But she knew
she wasn't.

CHAPTER IX

A DINNER AT WILLIS'S

"It seems to me," said Sylvia, "the most unnatural, _treacherous_ thing
I ever heard of."

She and Woodville were sitting in the library together after breakfast,
and he had just told her of Ridokanaki's invitation.

"Besides, I thought you hated him, Frank!"

"If we only dined with people we like, we should practically starve in
London."

"But why dine with my enemies?"

"He worships the ground you tread on."

"Then it's all the worse! He wants to spoil our happiness for his own
selfish purpose. You know that, and yet you go!"

"Darling, beautiful angel, do let me use my own judgment! I want to hear
what he has to say. Don't be angry, Sylvia. I couldn't very well refuse
on the ground that he was in love with you, when we--you and I--are not
officially--you see, dearest! Of course, it's better I should go."

The door opened slowly and Sir James came in like a procession, and sat
down slowly, in his stately, urbane manner.

"Excuse me one moment, Sir James," murmured Woodville, and he collected
some papers and vanished. Sylvia waited a few minutes and then rose.

"Don't go, Sylvia," said her father mildly. She stopped. Sylvia was the
only person with whom Sir James was never peremptory.

"What has become," he said, a little nervo