“I shall be enchanted, Mrs. Hazeldine.”

“And wasn’t it a pretty wedding,” continued Mrs. Hazeldine, rapturously, as they all three walked away together down the shady side of the street; “so remarkably pretty considering that there were no bridesmaids; but Mrs. Romer is so graceful, and dresses so well.  I don’t visit her myself, you know; but of course I know her by sight.  One knows everybody by sight in London; it’s rather embarrassing sometimes, because one is tempted to bow to people one doesn’t visit, or else one fancies one ought not to bow to somebody one does.  I’ve made some dreadfully stupid mistakes myself sometimes.  Did you notice the rose point on that old lady’s brown satin, Vera?”

“That was Lady Kynaston.”

“Oh, was it?  By the way, of course, you must know some of the Kynastons, as they come from your part of the world.  I wonder they didn’t ask you to the wedding.”

Vera murmured something unintelligible.  Monsieur D’Arblet looked at her sharply.  He saw that she had in no way recovered her agitation yet, and that she could hardly bear her companion’s brainless chatter over this wedding.

“That has been no ordinary love affair,” said this astute Frenchman to himself.  “I must decidedly cultivate this young lady’s acquaintance, for I mean to pay you out well yet, ma belle Helene.”

“How fortunate it was we happened to be passing just as it was going on.  I wouldn’t have missed seeing that lovely lavender satin the bride wore for worlds; did you notice the cut of the jacket front, Vera; it was something new; she looked as happy as possible too.  I daresay her first marriage was a coup manque; they generally are when women marry again.”

“Suppose we take these three chairs in the shade,” suggested Monsieur D’Arblet, cutting short, unceremoniously the string of her remarks, which apparently were no more soothing to himself than to Miss Nevill.

They sat down, and for the space of half an hour Monsieur D’Arblet proceeded to make himself politely agreeable to Miss Nevill, and he succeeded so well in amusing her by his conversation, that by the time they all got up to go the natural bloom had returned to her cheeks, and she was talking to him quite easily and pleasantly, as though no catastrophe in her life had happened but an hour ago.

“You will come back with us to lunch, Monsieur D’Arblet?”

“I shall be delighted, madame.”

“If you will excuse me, Cissy, I am not going to lunch with you to-day,” said Vera.

“My dear! where are you going, then?”

“I have a visit to pay—­an engagement, I mean—­in—­in Cadogan Place.  I will be home very soon, in time for your drive, if you don’t mind my leaving you.”

“Oh, of course, do as you like, dear.”

Lucien D’Arblet was annoyed at her defection, but, of course, having accepted Mrs. Hazeldine’s invitation, there was nothing for it but to go on with her; so he swallowed his discomfiture as best he could, and proceeded to make himself agreeable to his hostess.