Ashe made some polite comment.

“Oh! don’t let’s be conventional!” said Madame d’Estrees, flirting her fan with a little air of weariness—­“It’s an odious arrangement.  Lady Grosville and I, as you probably know, are not on terms.  She says atrocious things of me—­and I—­” the fair head fell back a little, and the white shoulders rose, with the slightest air of languid disdain—­“well, bear me witness that I don’t retaliate!  It’s not worth while.  But I know that Grosville House can help Kitty.  So!—­” Her gesture, half ironical, half resigned, completed the sentence.

“Does Lady Kitty like society?”

“Kitty likes anything that flatters or excites her.”

“Then of course she likes society.  Anybody as pretty as that—­”

“Ah! how sweet of you!” said Madame d’Estrees, softly—­“how sweet of you!  I like you to think her pretty.  I like you to say so.”

Ashe felt and looked a trifle disconcerted, but his companion bent forward and added—­“I don’t know whether I want you to flirt with her!  You must take care.  Kitty’s the most fantastic creature.  Oh! my life now’ll be very different.  I find she takes all my thoughts and most of my time!”

There was something extravagant in the sweetness of the smile which emphasized the speech, and altogether, Madame d’Estrees, in this new maternal aspect, was not as agreeable as usual.  Part of her charm perhaps had always lain in the fact that she had no domestic topics of her own, and so was endlessly ready for those of other people.  Those, indeed, who came often to her house were accustomed to speak warmly of her “unselfishness”—­by which they meant the easy patience with which she could listen, smile, and flatter.

Perhaps Ashe made this tacit demand upon her, no less than other people.  At any rate, as she talked cooingly on about her daughter, he would have found her tiresome for once but for some arresting quality in that small, distant figure.  As it was, he followed what she said with attention, and as soon as she had been recaptured by the impatient Italian Ambassador, he moved off, intending slowly to make his way to Lady Kitty.  But he was caught in many congratulations by the road, and presently he saw that his friend Darrell was being introduced to her by the old habitue of the house, Colonel Warington, who generally divided with the hostess the “lead” of these social evenings.

Lady Kitty nodded carelessly to Mr. Darrell, and he sat down beside her.

“That’s a cool hand for a girl of eighteen!” thought Ashe.  “She has the airs of a princess—­except for the chatter.”

Chatter indeed!  Wherever he moved, the sound of the light hurrying voice made itself persistently heard through the hum of male conversation.

Yet once, Ashe, looking round to see if Darrell could be dislodged, caught the chatterer silent, and found himself all at once invaded by a slight thrill, or shock.