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ant face. "It's all right!" he exclaimed. "Talk of diplomatists! I ought to be an ambassador." He flung himself into a chair, grinning with satisfaction like a schoolboy. "What is it?" asked Lady Holme, looking up from her writing-table. "I've been to Lady Brayley, explained the whole thing, and got us both off. After all, she was a friend of my mother's, and knew me in kilts and all that, so she ought to be ready to do me a favour. She looked a bit grim, but she's done it. You've--only got to tip her a note of thanks." "You're mad then, Fritz!" Lady Holme stood up suddenly. "Never saner." He put one hand into the breast pocket of his coat and pulled out an envelope. "Here's what she says to you." Lady Holme tore the note open. "BRAYLEY HOUSE, W. "DEAR VIOLA,--Holme tells me you made a mistake when you accepted my invitation for the first, and that you have long been pledged to be present on that date at some theatrical performance or other. I am sorry I did not know sooner, but of course I release you with pleasure from your engagement with me, and I have already filled up your places.--Believe me, yours always sincerely, "MARTHA BRAYLEY." Lady Holme read this note carefully, folded it up, laid it quietly on the writing-table and repeated: "You're mad, Fritz." "What d'you mean--mad?" "You've made Martha Brayley my enemy for life." "Rubbish!" "I beg your pardon. And for--for--" She stopped. It was wiser not to go on. Perhaps her face spoke for her, even to so dull an observer as Lord Holme, for he suddenly said, with a complete change of tone: "I forgave you about Carey." "Oh, I see! You want a _quid pro quo_. Thank you, Fritz." "Don't forget to tip Lady Brayley a note of thanks," he said rather loudly, getting up from his chair. "Oh, thanks! You certainly ought to be an ambassador--at the court of some savage monarch." He said nothing, but walked out of the room whistling the refrain about Ina. When he had gone Lady Holme sat down and wrote two notes. One was to Lady Brayley and was charmingly apologetic, saying that the confusion was entirely owing to Fritz's muddle-headedness, and that she was in despair at her misfortune--which was almost literally true. The other was to Sir Donald Ulford, begging him to join them in their box on the first, and asking whether it was possible to persuade Mr. and Mrs. Leo Ulford to
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