Lady Selina sighed.

“It is all a horrible tangle,” she said, “and what the next twenty years will bring forth who can tell?  Oh! one moment, Mr. Wharton, before I forget.  Are you engaged for Saturday week?”

He drew a little note-book out of his pocket and consulted it.  It appeared that he was not engaged.

“Then will you dine with us?” She lightly mentioned the names of four or five distinguished guests, including the Conservative Premier of the day.  Wharton made her a little ceremonious bow.

“I shall be delighted.  Can you trust me to behave?”

Lady Selina’s smile made her his match for the moment.

“Oh! we can defend ourselves!” she said.  “By the way I think you told me that Mr. Raeburn was not a friend of yours.”

“No,” said Wharton, facing her look with coolness.  “If you have asked Mr. Raeburn for the 23rd, let me crave your leave to cancel that note in my pocket-book.  Not for my sake, you understand, at all.”

She had difficulty in concealing her curiosity.  But his face betrayed nothing.  It always seemed to her that his very dark and straight eyebrows, so obtrusive and unusual as compared with the delicacy of the features, of the fair skin and light brown curls, made it easy for him to wear any mask he pleased.  By their mere physical emphasis they drew attention away from the subtler and more revealing things of expression.

“They say,” she went on, “that he is sure to do well in the House, if only he can be made to take interest enough in the party.  But one of his admirers told me that he was not at all anxious to accept this post they have just given him.  He only did it to please his grandfather.  My father thinks Lord Maxwell much aged this year.  He is laid up now, with a chill of some sort I believe.  Mr. Raeburn will have to make haste if he is to have any career in the Commons.  But you can see he cares very little about it.  All his friends tell me they find him changed since that unlucky affair last year.  By the way, did you ever see that girl?”

“Certainly.  I was staying in her father’s house while the engagement was going on.”

“Were you!” said Lady Selina, eagerly, “and what did you think of her?”

“Well, in the first place,” said Wharton, slowly, “she is beautiful—­you knew that?”

Lady Selina nodded.

“Yes.  Miss Raeburn, who has told me most of what I know, always throws in a shrug and a ‘but’ when you ask about her looks.  However, I have seen a photograph of her, so I can judge for myself.  It seemed to me a beauty that men perhaps would admire more than women.”