“Of course, it is only to you,” came first; and then, “It would be a relief to me to get the opinion of a man of the world; poor dear Anne Carteret consults me, and I really don’t know what to advise.  Fancy! that woman allows the girl L3000 a year, and Anne Carteret would probably have acted on my advice and kept her quiet so that no one need know anything of the wretched story, but the girl won’t be quiet, and will come up to London, and it seems so unsafe, don’t you know?  They are looking for a chaperone, as nothing will make Anne come herself.  And if it all comes out it will be so unpleasant for poor dear Rose Bright to meet this girl all dressed up with her money; don’t you think so?”

Lady Dawning was now quite screaming with excitement, and very red in nose and chin.  It would be a long time before she could be quite dull again.  But Edmund was far too deeply interested to notice details.

They parted very cordially, and Lady Dawning promised to let him know if she heard from Anne Carteret, and, if possible, to pass on the name of the chaperone woman who was to take Molly into society.

“And so your protegee is to arrive to-night?” said Edmund Grosse.

“Yes, and I am so frightened;” and with a little laugh appreciative of herself in general, Mrs. Delaport Green held up a cup of China tea in a pretty little white hand belonging to an arm that curved and thickened from the wrist to the elbow in perfect lines.

Sir Edmund gave the arm the faintest glance of appreciation before it retreated into lace frills within its brown sleeve.  Those lace frills were the only apparent extravagance in the simple frock in question, and simplicity was the chief note in this lady’s charming appearance.

“I don’t believe you are frightened, but probably she is frightened enough.”

“I know nothing whatever about her,” sighed the little woman, “and we are only doing it because we are so dreadfully hard up; my maid says that I shall soon not have a stitch to my back, and that would be so fearfully improper.  At least”—­she hesitated—­“I am doing it because times are bad.  Tim really knows nothing about it; I mean that he does not know that Miss Dexter is a ‘paying guest’, and it does sound horribly lower middle-class, doesn’t it?  But I’m so afraid Tim won’t be able to go to Homburg this year, and he is eating and drinking so much already, and it’s only the beginning of April.  What will happen if he can’t drink water and take exercise all this summer?”

“But I suppose you know her name?”

“I believe it is Molly Dexter.  And do you think I should say ‘Molly’ at once—­to-night, I mean?”

Sir Edmund did not answer this question.

“I used to know some Dexters years ago.”

“Yes, it is quite a good name, and Molly is of good family:  she is a cousin of Lady Dawning, but she is an orphan.  I think I must call her Molly at once,” and the little round eyes looked wistful and kindly.