“I must discuss it with your father; one can generally arrange what one wishes,” said Lord Bracondale.

At this moment Mrs. McBride leaned over and spoke to Theodora.  She had, she said, quite converted Mr. Brown.  He only wanted a little cheering up to be perfectly well, and she had got him to promise to dine that evening at Armenonville and listen to the Tziganes.  It was going to be a glorious night, but if they felt cold they could have their table inside out of the draught.  What did Theodora think about it?

Theodora thought it would be a delicious plan.  What else could she think?

“I have a large party coming,” Mrs. McBride said, “and among them a compatriot of mine who saw you last night and is dying to meet you.”

“Really,” said Theodora, unmoved.

Lord Bracondale experienced a sensation of annoyance.

“I shall not ask you, Bracondale,” the widow continued, playfully.  “Just to assert British superiority, you would try to monopolize Mrs. Brown, and my poor Herryman Hoggenwater would have to come in a long, long second!”

Josiah felt a rush of pride.  This brilliant woman was making much of his meek little wife.

Lord Bracondale smiled the most genial smile, with rage in his heart.

“I could not have accepted in any case, dear lady,” he said, “as I have some people dining with me, and, oddly enough, they rather suggested they wanted Armenonville too, so perhaps I shall have the pleasure of looking at you from the distance.”

The conversation then became general, and soon after this coffee arrived, and eventually the adieux were said.

Mrs. McBride insisted upon Theodora accompanying her in her smart automobile.

“You leave your wife to me for an hour,” she said, imperiously, to Josiah, “and go and see the world with Captain Fitzgerald.  He knows Paris.”

“My dear, you are just the sweetest thing I have come across this side of the Atlantic,” she said, when they were whizzing along in her car.  “But you look as if you wanted cheering too.  I expect your husband’s illness has worried you a good deal.”

Theodora froze a little.  Then she glanced at the widow’s face and its honest kindliness melted her.

“Yes, I have been anxious about him,” she said, simply, “but he is nearly well now, and we shall soon be going to England.”

Mrs. McBride had not taken a companion on this drive for nothing, and she obtained all the information she wanted during their tour in the Bois.  How Josiah Brown had bought a colossal place in the eastern counties, and intended to have parties and shoot there in the autumn.  How Theodora hoped to see more of her sisters than she had done since her marriage.  The question of these sisters interested Mrs. McBride a good deal.

For a man to have two unmarried daughters was rather an undertaking.

What were their ages—­their habits—­their ambitions?  Theodora told her simply.  She guessed why she was being interrogated.  She wished to assist her father, and to say the truth seemed to her the best way.  Sarah was kind and humorous, while Clementine had the brains.