Ashe looked at her kindly.

“There is no other hostess in London as clever as your mother,” he declared, and then tried to change the subject; but she paid no heed.

“The other day, at Aunt Grosville’s,” she said, slowly, “I asked if my two cousins might come to-night, and they looked at me as though I were mad!  Oh, do talk to me!” She came impulsively nearer, and Ashe noticed that Darrell, standing against the doorway of communication, looked round at them in amusement.  “I liked your face—­the very first moment when I saw you across the room.  Do you know—­you’re—­you’re very handsome!” She drew back, her eyes fixed gravely, intently upon him.

For the first time Ashe was conscious of annoyance.

“I hope you won’t mind my saying so”—­his tone was a little short—­“but in this country we don’t say those things.  They’re not—­quite polite.”

“Aren’t they?” Her eyebrows arched themselves and her lips fell in penitence.  “I always called my French cousin, Henri la Fresnay, beau! I am sure he liked it!” The accent was almost plaintive.

Ashe’s natural impulse was to say that if so the French cousin must be an ass.  But all in a moment he found himself seized with a desire to take her little hands in his own and press them—­she looked such a child, so exquisite, and so forlorn.  And he did in fact bend forward confidentially, forgetting Darrell.

“I want you to come and see my mother?” he said, smiling at her.  “Ask Lady Grosville to bring you.”

“May I?  But—­” She searched his face, eager still to pour out the impulsive, uncontrolled confidences that were in her mind.  But his expression stopped her, and she gave a little, resentful sigh.

“Yes—­I’ll come. We—­you and I—­are a little bit cousins too—­aren’t we?  We talked about you at the Grosvilles.”

“Was our ‘great-great’ the same person?” he said, laughing.  “Hope it was a decent ‘great-great.’  Some of mine aren’t much to boast of.  Well, at any rate, let’s be cousins—­whether we are or no, shall we?”

She assented, her whole face lighting up.

“And we’re going to meet—­the week after next!” she said, triumphantly, “in the country.”

“Are we?—­at Grosville Park.  That’s delightful.”

“And then I’ll ask your advice—­I’ll make you tell me—­a hundred things!  That’s a bargain—­mind!”

“Kitty!  Come and help me with tea—­there’s a darling!”

Lady Kitty turned.  A path had opened through the crowd, and Madame d’Estrees, much escorted, a vision of diamonds and pale-pink satin, appeared, leading the way to the supper-room, and the light “refection,” accompanied by much champagne, which always closed these evenings.

The girl rose, as did her companion also.  Madame d’Estrees threw a quick, half-satirical glance at Ashe, but he had eyes only for Lady Kitty, and her transformation at the touch of her mother’s voice.  She followed Madame d’Estrees with a singular and conscious dignity, her white skirts sweeping, her delicately fine head thrown back on her thin neck and shoulders.  The black crowd closed about her; and Ashe’s eyes pursued the slender figure till it disappeared.