“Well, to tell you the truth, I’ve lost my card.  I can’t think what I have done with it.”

“Dropped it, perhaps.”

“No; I fancy"—­frowning as if trying to remember—­“that I gave it to somebody to keep for me.”

“Tom, perhaps,” dryly.

“I think not.”

“Well, your partner for this dance, whoever he is, doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to claim you,” says Rylton, making his rude speech very suavely.  “You may as well give it to me.”

At this moment Hescott, looking rather out of breath, comes up to them, pushing the curtain near him aside.

“What a place to hide yourself!” says he to Tita.  “I have been hunting for you everywhere.”  Here he catches sight of Rylton.  “Oh, you, Rylton!  Tita is in good company, at all events.”

“She is always in good company, of course,” returns Rylton, smiling.

“Why, is it you, then, who is my partner?” says Tita, quickly looking at Tom.  “Maurice wants me to dance this with him.  I told him I should be delighted to, but——­”

“Did you tell me that?” interrupts Sir Maurice, always smiling.

“Well, if I didn’t say it, I meant it,” with a shrug.  “But, you see, I had lost my card, so I wasn’t sure whether I was engaged to somebody else or not.”

“Why——­” begins Hescott.

He stops dead short.  Suddenly it occurs to him that perhaps she doesn’t wish her husband to know! He curses himself for this thought afterwards.  She—­she to descend to duplicity of any sort!

“It is you who have my card!” cries Tita suddenly, as if just remembering, and with a merry laugh.  “Of course!  How could I have forgotten!”

“How, indeed!” says her husband pleasantly; his mouth is looking a little hard, however.

“Give it to me,” says Tita.

Hescott gives her the car in silence.  If she is ignorant, he, at all events, is quite aware that there is thunder in the atmosphere.

Tita runs her eye down the card.

“Yes, this dance is yours,” says she, looking up at Tom.

“If you would prefer to dance it with Sir Maurice——­” begins he.

He is looking at her.  His heart feels on fire. Will she elect to dance with this husband, who, as report goes, so openly prefers another?

“No, no, no!” cries Tita gaily; “I have promised you.  Maurice can ask me for another later on.”

“Certainly,” says Sir Maurice courteously.

He nods and smiles at them as they leave the recess, but once past his view, his expression changes; his brow grows black as night.  What does it all mean?  Is she as innocent as heaven itself, or as false as hell?  All things point the latter way.

First she had said——­ What was it she had said?  That she didn’t know whether she were engaged to this dance or not.  A clear putting off—­a plan to gain time.  She had lost her card; she couldn’t imagine how and where.  Then comes the inevitable cousin with the card.  And his hesitation—­that was fatal.  He surely was clever enough to have avoided that. She had known what to do, however; she had taken the bull by the horns.  She had given “Tom,” as she calls him, a safe lead.