Mrs. Burton smiled out of her slitty eyes.  “I should scarcely imagine Captain Monck to be one of them,” she said.  “He is obviously here as a matter of form to-night.  The best man must be civil to the bride—­whatever his feelings.”

Lady Harriet’s face cleared a little, although her estimate of Mrs. Burton’s opinion was not a very high one.  “That may account for Captain Dacre’s extremely complacent attitude,” she said.  “He regards the attentions paid to his fiancee as a tribute to himself.”

“He may change his point of view when he is married,” laughed Mrs. Ermsted.  “It will be interesting to watch developments.  We all know what Captain Dacre is.  I have never yet seen him satisfied to take a back seat.”

Mrs. Burton laughed with her.  “Nor content to occupy even a front one at the same show for long,” she observed.  “I marvel to see him caught in the noose so easily.”

“None but an adventuress could have done it,” declared Mrs. Ermsted.  “She has practised the art of slinging the lasso before now.”

“My dear,” said Mrs. Ralston, “forgive me, but that is unworthy of you.”

Mrs. Ermsted flicked an eyelid in Mrs. Burton’s direction with an insouciance that somehow robbed the act of any serious sting.  “Poor Mrs. Ralston holds such a high opinion of everybody,” she said, “that she must meet with a hundred disappointments in a day.”

Lady Harriet’s down-turned lips said nothing, but they were none the less eloquent on that account.

Mrs. Ralston’s eyes of faded blue watched Stella with a distressed look.  She was not hurt on her own account, but she hated to hear the girl criticized in so unfriendly a spirit.  Stella was more brilliantly beautiful that night than she had ever before seen her, and she longed to hear a word of appreciation from that hostile group of women.  But she knew very well that the longing was vain, and it was with relief that she saw Captain Dacre himself saunter up to claim Mrs. Ermsted for a partner.

Smiling, debonair, complacent, the morrow’s bridegroom had a careless quip for all and sundry on that last night.  It was evident that his fiancee’s defection was a matter of no moment to him.  Stella was to have her fling, and he, it seemed, meant to have his.  He and Mrs. Ermsted had had many a flirtation in the days that were past and it was well known that Captain Ermsted heartily detested him in consequence.  Some even hinted that matters had at one time approached very near to a climax, but Ralph Dacre knew how to handle difficult situations, and with considerable tact had managed to avoid it.  Little Mrs. Ermsted, though still willing to flirt, treated him with just a tinge of disdain, now-a-days; no one knew wherefore.  Perhaps it was more for Stella’s edification than her own that she condescended to dance with him on that sweltering evening of Indian spring.