“Very happy to see any friend of yours, my dear Miss Liddell!  I think I had the pleasure of meeting you, Mrs. Ormonde, at Lord Trevallan’s garden-party last June?”

“Oh yes; were you there?” with saucy surprise.

“Algernon,” continued Lady Barrington, motioning with her fan to a tall, thin youth.  “My nephew, Mrs. Ormonde, Miss Liddell.  I think Algernon had the pleasure of meeting you at Rome?” Katherine bowed and smiled.  “Take Mrs. Ormonde and Miss Liddell in and find them seats near the piano.  Signor Bandolini and Madam Montebello are good enough to give us some of their charming duets, and are just going to begin.  I was afraid you might be late.”

So Mrs. Ormonde and Miss Liddell were ushered to places of honor, and the music began.

“I don’t see a soul I know,” whispered Mrs. Ormonde, presently.  “Yet the women are well dressed and look nice enough, but the men are decidedly caddish.”

“London is a large place, with room in it for all sorts and conditions of men.  But we must not talk, Ada.”

Mrs. Ormonde was silent for a while; and then opening her fan to screen her irrepressible desire to communicate her observations, resumed: 

“I am sure I saw Captain Darrell in the doorway only for a minute, and he went away.  I hope he will come and talk to us.  You were gone when he came back from leave—­to Monckton, I mean.  He is rather amu—­” A warning “hush-sh” interrupted her.

“What rude, ill-bred people!” she muttered, under her breath.  And soon the duet—­a new one, expressly composed to show off the vocal gymnastics of the signore and madame—­came to an end; there was a rustle of relief, and every one burst into talk.

“How glad they are it is over!” said Mrs. Ormonde.  “Look at that tall girl in pink.  You see those sparkles in the roses on her corsage and in her hair; they are all diamonds.  I know the white glitter.  What airs she gives herself!  I suppose she is an heiress, and, I dare say, not half as rich as you are.”

“Don’t be too sure.  I am no millionaire,” began Katherine, when she was interrupted by a voice she knew, which said, “I had no idea it was to be such a ghastly concern as this!” and turning, she found De Burgh close behind her.

“What offends you?” she asked, smiling.

“All this trilling and shrieking.  There’s tea or something going on downstairs.  You had better come away before they have a fresh burst; they are carrying up a big fiddle.”

“Tea!” exclaimed Mrs. Ormonde.  “Oh, do take me away to have some!”

“Here, Darrell,” said De Burgh, coolly, turning back to speak to some one who stood behind him.  “Here’s Mrs. Ormonde dying for deliverance and tea.  Come, do your devoir.”

Darrell hastened forward, smiling, delighted.  With a little pucker of the brow and lifting of the eyebrows Mrs. Ormonde accepted his arm.

“Now, Miss Liddell,” said De Burgh, offering his; and not sorry to escape from the heated, crowded room, Katherine took it and accompanied him downstairs.