Ripton protested that he dared not; upon which she said, “Then I will”; and inclined her sumptuous bust across his lap, breathing wine in his face, and gave the nudge.  The mignonne turned an inquiring eye on Ripton; a mischievous spark shot from it.  She laughed, and said; “Aren’t you satisfied with the old girl?”

“Impudence!” muttered the bosom, growing grander and redder.

“Do, do fill her glass, and keep her quiet—­she drinks port when there’s no more champagne,” said the mignonne.

The bosom revenged herself by whispering to Ripton scandal of the mignonne, and between them he was enabled to form a correcter estimate of the company, and quite recovered from his original awe:  so much so as to feel a touch of jealousy at seeing his lively little neighbour still held in absolute possession.

Mrs. Mount did not come out much; but there was a deferential manner in the bearing of the men toward her, which those haughty creatures accord not save to clever women; and she contrived to hold the talk with three or four at the head of the table while she still had passages aside with Richard.

The port and claret went very well after the champagne.  The ladies here did not ignominiously surrender the field to the gentlemen; they maintained their position with honour.  Silver was seen far out on Thames.  The wine ebbed, and the laughter.  Sentiment and cigars took up the wondrous tale.

“Oh, what a lovely night!” said the ladies, looking above.

“Charming,” said the gentlemen, looking below.

The faint-smelling cool Autumn air was pleasant after the feast.  Fragrant weeds burned bright about the garden.

“We are split into couples,” said Adrian to Richard, who was standing alone, eying the landscape.  “Tis the influence of the moon!  Apparently we are in Cyprus.  How has my son enjoyed himself?  How likes he the society of Aspasia?  I feel like a wise Greek to-night.”

Adrian was jolly, and rolled comfortably as he talked.  Ripton had been carried off by the sentimental bosom.  He came up to them and whispered:  “By Jove, Ricky! do you know what sort of women these are?”

Richard said he thought them a nice sort.

“Puritan!” exclaimed Adrian, slapping Ripton on the back.  “Why didn’t you get tipsy, sir?  Don’t you ever intoxicate yourself except at lawful marriages?  Reveal to us what you have done with the portly dame?”

Ripton endured his bantering that he might hang about Richard, and watch over him.  He was jealous of his innocent Beauty’s husband being in proximity with such women.  Murmuring couples passed them to and fro.

“By Jove, Ricky!” Ripton favoured his friend with another hard whisper, “there’s a woman smoking!”

“And why not, O Riptonus?” said Adrian.  “Art unaware that woman cosmopolitan is woman consummate? and dost grumble to pay the small price for the splendid gem?”