“Darling Letitia,” she pleaded, to a stiff-looking old woman sitting bolt-upright under a lamp, “don’t glare at me so.  I am not the last to-night; there are still Babykins and Margaret and several others to come.”

“Oh, Lord, how hungry I am!” announced Mr. Budge, in a loud voice.  I recognized him now from his picture being so often in the papers.

Then, from a door at the other end, in tripped Babykins, and close behind her Lord Tilchester, and, last of all, when the clock had struck nine-fifteen, and even the funny-faced man next me had exhausted all his conversation, the door at the north end of the salon opened, and serenely, like a lovely ship, our beautiful hostess sailed towards us.

“So sorry to be a little late,” she said, calmly.  “Tilchester, as you have, of course, told every one whom they are to take in, we may as well start.”

Lord Tilchester had been sitting in the window-seat with Babykins, and had completely forgotten this duty, I suppose.  He got up guiltily and fumbled for a paper in his pocket.

“Oh, don’t let us wait for that,” said Mr. Budge, gruffly.  “Come, Lady Tilchester, I shall take you and lead the way,” and he gave her his arm.

She laughed and took it.

“Very well,” she said.

Every one scrambled for the people they wanted or knew best; and so it happened that I found myself standing staring at a pale young man with weak blue eyes and a wonderfully well-tied tie, the last of the company.

He held out his arm nervously, and we finally got to the dining-room and found two seats.

It was not until dinner was almost over that I found out he was the Duke of Myrlshire, and ought to have taken in Lady Tilchester.

Augustus had placed himself next the purple lady, and his face grew a gray mauve with excitement at her gracious glances.

My ducal partner was unattractive.  He had a squeaky voice and a nervous manner, but said some entreprenant things in a way which made me understand he is accustomed to be listened to with patience, not to say pleasure.

He told me he was grateful to Mr. Budge for his move, as he had been admiring me since the moment we arrived, and had determined, directly the melee began, to secure me if possible.

“Er—­you don’t look like an Englishwoman,” he said, “and it is a nice change.  My eye is wearied with them; their outlines are all exactly alike.”

He further informed me that Paris was the only place to live in, and that the English as a nation were crude in their vices.

“They make such a noise about everything here,” he added.  “One cannot do a thing that it is not put the wrong way up in the halfpenny papers.”

“The penalty of greatness,” I said, laughing.  “They don’t worry at all, for instance, about what I am doing.”

“Then they show extremely bad taste,” he said, with a look of frank admiration.