“Carton and she can make up for lost time later on,” Mr. Foley insisted.  “Maraton goes to-morrow.  To-night I am relying upon Elisabeth to look after him.  For some reason or other, they seem to get on together excellently.”

Lady Grenside took Lord Carton into one of the corners of her brother’s quaint and delightful drawing-room, to explain the matter.

“My dear Jack,” she began, “never be a politician.”

“I like that!” the young man answered.  “Lady Elisabeth has been talking to me for half an hour before dinner, trying to get me to interest myself in what she calls serious objects.”

“Oh, it’s all right, so far as the man is concerned!” Lady Grenside amended.  “I was thinking of my own position.  Only an hour ago, my brother comes to me and tells me that I am to send Elisabeth in to dinner to-night with—­with whom do you think?”

“With me, I hope,” the young man replied promptly, “only I don’t know why he should interfere.”

“With Mr. Maraton.”

“What, the anarchist fellow?”

Lady Grenside nodded several times.

“I can’t refuse Stephen in his own house,” she said, “and Mr. Maraton is leaving to-morrow.”

The young man sighed.

“He is just one of those thoughtful chaps with plenty of gas, that Elisabeth likes to talk to,” he complained.  “Never mind, it’s got to be put up with, I suppose.”

“I am sending you in with Lily,” Lady Grenside continued.  “She’ll keep you amused.  Only I felt that I must explain.”

“I can’t think what the fellow’s doing here, anyhow,” Carton remarked discontentedly.  “A few generations ago we should have hung him.”

“Hush!” Lady Grenside whispered.  “Don’t let Elisabeth hear you talk like that.  Here she comes.  I wonder—­”

Lady Grenside stopped short.  She was looking steadily at her daughter and her expression of doubt had a genuine impulse behind it.  Carton was not so reticent.

“By Jove, she does look stunning!” he murmured.

Elisabeth, who seldom wore colours, was dressed in blue, with a necklace of turquoises.  On the threshold she paused to make some laughing rejoinder to a man who was holding open the door for her.  Her eyes were brilliant, her face was full of animation.  Lady Grenside’s face darkened as the unseen man came into sight.  It was Maraton.

“Never saw Elisabeth look so ripping,” Carton repeated.  “Just my luck, not to take her in.”

“To-morrow night,” Lady Grenside promised.

“That’s all very well,” Carton grumbled.  “I wish she didn’t look so thundering pleased with herself.”

Lady Grenside leaned a little towards him.

“Elisabeth is a dear girl,” she declared.  “She is doing all this for her uncle’s sake.  Mr. Foley is very anxious indeed to conciliate this man, and Elisabeth is helping him.  You know how keen she is on doing what she can in that way.”