It was when the bisque d’ecrevisses was being handed she became conscious that, not two tables off, there was an empty one simply arranged with flowers, and almost at the same instant Lord Bracondale and his party arrived upon the scene.

All Theodora’s perceptions seemed to be sharpened.  She knew without turning her head the table was for them, and that they were advancing towards it.  She had felt their arrival almost before their automobile stopped; and now she would not look up.

A strange sensation, as of excitement, tingled through her.  She longed to ascertain if the woman was good-looking who made the third in this party of three.  She peeped eventually—­with the corner of her eye.  Lord Bracondale had so placed his guests that he himself faced Theodora, and the lady had her back turned to her.

Thus Theodora’s curiosity could not be gratified.

“She is English,” she decided; “that round shaped back always is—­and very well-bred looking, and not much taste in dress.  I wonder if she is old or young—­and if that is the husband.  Yes, he is unattractive—­it must be the husband—­and oh, I wonder what they are talking about!  Lord Bracondale seems so interested!”

And if she had known it was—­

“Really, Monica, how fortunate to have secured you at short notice like this,” Lord Bracondale was saying.  “I only found I had a free evening at breakfast, and I met Jack on my way to the polo-ground just in the nick of time.”

“We love coming,” Mrs. Ellerwood replied.  “For unsophisticated English people it is a great treat.  We go back on Saturday—­every one will be asking what is keeping you here so long.”

“My plans are vague,” Lord Bracondale said, casually.  “I might come back any day, or I may stay until well into June—­it quite depends upon how amused I am.  I rather love Paris.”

And to himself he was thinking—­

“How I wish that atrocious woman over there with the paradise plume would keep her hat out of the way.  Ah, that is better!  How lovely she looks to-night!  What an exquisite pose of head!  And what are those two damned foreigners saying to her, I wonder.  Underbred brute, the American, Herryman Hoggenwater!  What a name!  She is laughing—­she evidently finds him amusing.  Abominably cattish of the widow not to ask me.  I wonder if she has seen me yet.  I want to make her bow to me.  Ah!” For just then magnetism was too strong for Theodora, and, in spite of her determination, their eyes met.

A thrill, little short of passion, ran through Lord Bracondale as he saw the wild roses flushing her white cheeks—­the exquisite flattery to his vanity.  Yes, she had seen him, and it already meant something to her.

He raised his champagne glass and sipped a sip, while his eyes, more ardent than they had ever been, sought her face.

And Theodora, for her part, felt a flutter too.  She was angry with herself for blushing, such a school-girlish thing to do, Sarah had always told her.  She hoped he had not noticed it at that distance—­probably not.  And what did he mean by drinking her health like that?  He—­oh, he was—­