Although, however, this consideration counted, it was, to do him justice, Marcella, the creature herself, that he desired.  But for her presence in his life he would probably have gone heiress-hunting with the least possible delay.  As it was, his growing determination to win her, together with his advocacy of the Damesley workers—­amply sufficed, during the days that followed his evening talk with Lady Selina, to maintain his own illusions about himself and so to keep up the zest of life.

Yes!—­to master and breathe passion into Marcella Boyce, might safely be reckoned on, he thought, to hurry a man’s blood.  And after it had gone so far between them—­after he had satisfied himself that her fancy, her temper, her heart, were all more or less occupied with him—­was he to see her tamely recovered by Aldous Raeburn—­by the man whose advancing parliamentary position was now adding fresh offence to the old grievance and dislike?  No! not without a dash—­a throw for it!

For a while, after Lady Selina’s confidences, jealous annoyance, together with a certain reckless state of nerves, turned him almost into the pining lover.  For he could not see Marcella.  She came no more to Mrs. Lane; and the house in James Street was not open to him.  He perfectly understood that the Winterbournes did not want to know him.

At last Mrs. Lane, a shrewd little woman with a half contemptuous liking for Wharton, let him know—­on the strength of a chance meeting with Lady Ermyntrude—­that the Winterbournes would be at the Masterton party on the 26th.  They had persuaded Miss Boyce to stay for it, and she would go back to her work the Monday after.  Wharton carelessly replied that he did not know whether he would be able to put in an appearance at the Mastertons’.  He might be going out of town.

Mrs. Lane looked at him and said, “Oh, really!” with a little laugh.

* * * * *

Lady Masterton was the wife of the Colonial Secretary, and her grand mansion in Grosvenor Square was the principal rival to Alresford House in the hospitalities of the party.  Her reception on July 25 was to be the last considerable event of a protracted but now dying season.  Marcella, detained in James Street day after day against her will by the weakness of the injured arm and the counsels of her doctor, had at last extracted permission to go back to work on the 27th; and to please Betty Macdonald she had promised to go with the Winterbournes to the Masterton party on the Saturday.  Betty’s devotion, shyly as she had opened her proud heart to it, had begun to mean a good deal to her.  There was balm in it for many a wounded feeling; and, besides, there was the constant, half eager, half painful interest of watching Betty’s free and childish ways with Aldous Raeburn, and of speculating upon what would ultimately come out of them.

So, when Betty first demanded to know what she was going to wear, and then pouted over the dress shown her, Marcella submitted humbly to being “freshened up” at the hands of Lady Ermyntrude’s maid, bought what Betty told her, and stood still while Betty, who had a genius for such things, chattered, and draped, and suggested.