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enough himself that he was interested not in girls but very dashing older ladies. He recalled a few amusing incidents, but perfectly harmless. Galloping instead of trotting in the parks, being a little rowdy and countrified at polite do’s. He felt a strong and utterly futile wish that he had known her better then. Or even two years ago, before she had fallen in with the Continental set. It was only recently she had become the infamous Babe Manfred. If there was any good fiber left in her, she’d straighten out. He didn’t think the twig was so inalterably bent that it was impossible.
    In the afternoon she went dutifully to examine once again the Elgin Marbles, and agreed verbally with the mandarins that it had been a wise purchase, while mentally balking at the high price paid for these smashed relics of antiquity. Yet there was a strangely compelling beauty in the carvings. A peaceful order that was sadly lacking in her own disordered life. It was restful to see those shepherds and athletes caught in their prime, beautiful and immutable forever in marble. Never to grow old and have circles under their eyes. Never to be running into scrapes. How peaceful it would be to be a statue, she thought.
     
    Chapter Five
     
    Barbara was not at all fagged when the hour for the Farrows’ ball rolled around. She thumbed through those gowns that still remained to her, selecting a deep blue that matched her eyes and set off her pale coloring. Harper did her hair up high on her head, held in place with a pair of sapphire-tipped pins she had had made to her own design at Rundell and Bridges. She was happy Lady Withers had not considered this gown too risqué. It was one of her favorites. Lady Graham, when she beheld her first sight of it was not of the same mind.
    “You’re surely not taking Barbara into company half naked!” she exclaimed, horrified with bare shoulders and no sleeves.
    “It is the style this year, Cousin,” he explained with a bemused smile, finding no fault in it.
    “You men are all alike, always in favor of any style that shows you parts of a lady’s body you shouldn’t see.”
    “Barbara has a shawl. Better put it over your shoulders,” he advised her, with a shared look that did not augur his expecting       her to keep it there long.
    “A French style, I daresay,” the old dame scolded, while Mabel risked a little smile of approval. Recalling her guest’s mixed parentage, Lady Graham went on to mitigate her insult. “Not that I mean to say the Frenchies are all bad. They are very wise about money. Tight as drums, or so I have heard. Not so bad as the Austrians, with that wicked waltz they have invented. Ladies and gentlemen holding onto each other in public. You won’t let Lady Barbara waltz, Clivedon?”
    “Certainly not!” he answered at once, feigning great shock. When he saw the young lady’s lips open to object, he rapidly spoke on. “Nor shall I waltz myself.”
    Lady Graham shook her head in approval. “And I want her home early, mind.”
    “Don’t wait up for her, ma’am. I wouldn’t dream of keeping you up past midnight, and these do’s often go on till one, you know.”
    He had no notion of leaving a minute before two, and neither had his companion. “Just leave the door on the latch. Harper will be up,” Barbara mentioned.
    “The butler will be up. I couldn’t sleep with the door on the latch without Smudge up to guard us. One o’clock, eh? That is very late. Too late for me,” Lady Graham decreed.
    They escaped into the night. “This is hardly worth the trip, if we are not to waltz and be home at one o’clock,” Barbara offered.
    “I didn’t want to shock the old girl. Better cover up those naked shoulders,” he joked, as they settled into the carriage.
    “Deceitful creature! To hear her praise you . . .”
    “And you !” he informed her, lifting a finger. “She was kind enough to tell me you were not nearly as wild as she had been led to expect.”
    “I