“You seem to have heard of me,” he remarked drily.

“Who has not heard of you!” she answered in a low tone.  “I am sorry.  You have made me break my word.”

“I?”

She was recovering herself now.  A certain icy aloofness seemed to have crept into her manner.  Her head was held at a different angle.  Even the words seemed to leave her lips differently.  Her tone was one of measured indignation.

“Yes, you!  When Mr. Foley told me that he had asked you to come here to-night, I vowed that I would not speak to you.”

“A perfectly reasonable decision,” he agreed, without the slightest change of expression, “but am I really to be blamed for this unfortunate incident?  You cannot say that I thrust myself upon your notice.”

His eyebrows were ever so slightly uplifted.  She was not absolutely sure that there was not something very suggestive of amusement in his deep-set eyes.  She bit her lip.  Naturally he was not a gentleman!

“I thought that you were a neglected guest,” she explained coldly.  “I do not understand how it is that you have managed to remain undiscovered.”

He shook his head doubtfully.

“I made my entrance with the others.  I saw a very charming lady at the head of the stairs—­your mother, I believe—­who gave me her fingers and called me Mr. Martin.  Your uncle shook hands with me, looking over my head to welcome some one behind.  I passed on with the rest.  The fault remains, beyond a doubt, with your majordomo and my uncommon name.”

“Since I have discovered you, then,” she declared, “you had better let me take you to my uncle.  He has been looking everywhere for you for the last hour.  We will go this way.”

She laid the extreme tips of her fingers upon his coat sleeve.  He glanced down at them for a moment.  Her reluctance was evident.

“Perhaps,” he suggested coolly, “we should make faster progress if I were to follow you.”

She took no further notice of him for some time.  Then very suddenly she drew him to one side out of the throng, into an almost empty anteroom—­a dismal little apartment lined with shelves full of blue books and Parliamentary records.

“I am content to obey my guide,” he remarked, “but why this abrupt flight?”

She hesitated.  Then she raised her eyes and looked at him.  Perhaps some instinct told her that the truth was best.

“Because Mr. Culvain was in that crowd,” she told him.  “Mr. Culvain has been looking for you everywhere.  It is only to see you that he came here this evening.  My uncle is anxious to talk with you first.”

“I am flattered,” he murmured, smiling.

“I think that you should be,” she asserted.  “Personally, I do not understand my uncle’s attitude.”

“With regard to me?”

“With regard to you.”

“You think, perhaps, that I should not be permitted here at all as a guest?”