“You were lucky!” said Mary Lyster.  “Lady Tranmore was dreadfully anxious—­”

“Lest she should cut us at the last?” cried Lady Parham.  “Well, of course, Lady Kitty is ‘capable de tout.’” She laughed.  “But perhaps as you are a cousin I oughtn’t to say these things.”

“Oh, say what you like,” said Mary.  “I am no friend of Kitty’s, and never pretended to be.”

Lady Parham came closer, apparently, and said, confidentially:  “What on earth made that man marry her?  He might have married anybody.  She had no money, and worse than no position.”

“She worked upon his pity, of course, a good deal.  I saw them in the early days at Grosville Park.  She played her cards very cleverly.  And then, it was just the right moment.  Lady Tranmore had been urging him to marry.”

“Well, of course,” said Lady Parham, “there’s no denying the beauty.”

“You think so?” said Mary, as though in wonder.  “Well, I never could see it.  And now she has so much gone off.”

“I don’t agree with you.  Many people think her the star to-night.  Mr. Cliffe, I am told, admires her.”

Kitty could not see how the eyes of the speaker, under a Sir Joshua turban, studied the countenance of Miss Lyster, as she threw out the words.

Mary laughed.

“Poor Kitty!  She tried to flirt with him long ago—­just after she arrived in London, fresh out of the convent.  It was so funny!  He told me afterwards he never was so embarrassed in his life—­this baby making eyes at him!  And now—­oh no!”

“Why not now?  Lady Kitty’s very much the rage, and Mr. Cliffe likes notoriety.”

“But a notoriety with—­well, with some style, some distinction!  Kitty’s sort is so cheap and silly.”

“Ah, well, she’s not to be despised,” said Lady Parham.  “She’s as clever as she can be.  But her husband will have to keep her in order.”

“Can he?” said Mary.  “Won’t she always be in his way?”

“Always, I should think.  But he must have known what he was about.  Why didn’t his mother interfere?  Such a family!—­such a history!”

“She did interfere,” said Mary.  “We all did our best”—­she dropped her voice—­“I know I did.  But it was no use.  If men like spoiled children they must have them, I suppose.  Let’s hope he’ll learn how to manage her.  Shall we go on?  I promised to meet my supper-partner in the library.”

They moved away.

* * * * *

For some minutes Kitty stood looking out, motionless, but the beating of her heart choked her.  Strange ancestral things—­things of evil—­things of passion—­had suddenly awoke, as it were, from sleep in the depths of her being, and rushed upon the citadel of her life.  A change had passed over her from head to foot.  Her veins ran fire.

At that moment, turning round, she saw Geoffrey Cliffe enter the room in which she stood.  With an impetuous movement she approached him.