It came as a thunderclap to Lady Anningford.  This accounted for Hector’s eagerness to obtain the invitation—­accounted for Theodora’s exceeding look of breeding—­accounted for many things.

She only trusted her mother had not heard the news also.  So much better to leave her in her fool’s paradise about Morella.

If Lady Harrowfield knew, she said nothing about it.  She absolutely ignored Theodora, as though she had never shaken hands with her in her own house the night before.  Theodora wondered at her manners—­she did not yet know Mayfair.

The conversation turned upon some of the wonderful charities they were all interested in, and Theodora thought how good and kind of them to help the poor and crippled.  And she said some gentle, sympathetic things to a lady who was near her.  And Anne thought to herself how sweet and beautiful her nature must be, and it made her sadder and sadder.

Presently they all began to discuss the ball at Harrowfield House.  It had been too lovely, they said, and Lady Harrowfield joined in with one of her sharp thrusts.

“Of course it could not be just as one would have wished.  I was obliged to ask all sorts of people I had never even heard of,” she said.  “The usual grabbing for invitations, you know, to see the Royalties.  Really, the quaint creatures who came up the stairs!  I almost laughed in their faces once or twice.”

“But don’t you like to feel what pleasure you gave them, the poor things?” Theodora said, quite simply, without the least sarcasm.  “You see, I know you gave them pleasure, because my husband and I were some of them—­and we enjoyed it, oh, so much!”

And she smiled one of her adorable smiles which melted the heart of every one else in the room.  But of Lady Harrowfield she made an enemy for life.  The venomous woman reddened violently—­under her paint—­while she looked this upstart through and through.  But Theodora was quite unconscious of her anger.  To her Lady Harrowfield seemed a poor, soured old woman very much painted and ridiculous, and she felt sorry for unlovely old age and ill-temper.

Meanwhile, Lady Bracondale was being favorably impressed.  She was a most presentable young person, this wife of the Australian millionaire, she decided.

Anne took the greatest pains to be charming to Theodora.  They were sitting together on a sofa when the men came into the room.

Hector could keep away no longer.  He joined them in their corner, while his face beamed with joy to see the two people he loved best in the world apparently getting on so well together.

“What have you been talking about?” he asked.

“Nothing very learned,” said Anne.  “Only the children.  I was telling Mrs. Brown how Fordy’s pony ran away in the park this morning, and how plucky he had been about it.”

“They are rather nice infants,” said Hector.  “I should like you to see them,” and he looked at Theodora.  “Mayn’t we have them down, Anne?”