“Take me down to supper, Mr. Cliffe.  I can’t wait for Lord Hubert any more, I’m so hungry!”

“Enchanted!” said Cliffe, the color leaping into his tanned face as he looked down upon the goddess.  “But I came to find—­”

“Miss Lyster?  Oh, she is gone in with Mr. Darrell.  Come with me.  I have a ticket for the reserved tent.  We shall have a delicious corner to ourselves.”

And she took from her glove the little coveted paste-board, which—­handed about in secret to a few intimates of the house—­gave access to the sanctum sanctorum of the evening.

Cliffe wavered.  Then his vanity succumbed.  A few minutes later the supper guests in the tent of the elite saw the entrance of a darkly splendid Duke of Alva, with a little sandalled goddess.  All compact, it seemed, of ivory and fire, on his arm.

XI

The spring freshness of London, had long since departed.  A crowded season; much animation in Parliament, where the government, to its own amazement, had rather gained than lost ground; industrial trouble at home, and foreign complications abroad; and in London the steady growth of a new plutocracy, the result, so far, of American wealth and American brides.  In the first week of July, the outward things of the moment might have been thus summed up by any careful observer.

On a certain Tuesday night, the debate on a private member’s bill unexpectedly collapsed, and the House rose early.  Ashe left the House with his secretary, but parted from him at the corner of Birdcage Walk, and crossed the park alone.  He meant to join Kitty at a party in Piccadilly; there was just time to go home and dress; and he walked at a quick pace.

Two members sitting on the same side of the House with himself were also going home.  One of them noticed the Under-Secretary.

“A very ineffective statement Ashe made to-night—­don’t you think so?” he said to his companion.

“Very!  Really, if the government can’t take up a stronger line, the general public will begin to think there’s something in it.”

“Oh, if you only shriek long enough and sharp enough in England something’s sure to come of it.  Cliffe and his group have been playing a very shrewd game.  The government will get their agreement approved all right, but Cliffe has certainly made some people on our side uneasy.  However—­”

“However, what?” said the other, after a moment.

“I wish I thought that were the only reason for Ashe’s change of tone,” said the first speaker, slowly.

“What do you mean?”

The two were intimate personal friends, belonging, moreover, to a group of evangelical families well known in English life; but even so, the answer came with reluctance: 

“Well, you see, it’s not very easy to grapple in public with the man whose name all smart London happens to be coupling with that of your wife!”