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arrival who Lord Robert saw with pleasure was Lady Alleyn. She was followed by a thin girl with copper-coloured hair and slanting eyebrows that at once reminded him of his friend Roderick. “Must be the niece,” he decided. The girl at his side suddenly murmured an excuse and hurried away to greet Sarah Alleyn. Lord Robert finished his drink and was given another. In a few minutes he was surrounded by acquaintances and was embarked upon one of his new stories. He made his point very neatly, drifted away on the wave of laughter that greeted it, and found Lady Alleyn.
    “My dear Bunchy,” she said, “you are the very person I hoped to see. Come and gossip with me. I feel like a phoenix.”
    “You look like a princess,” he said. “Why do we meet so seldom? Where shall we go?”
    “If there is a corner reserved for grandmothers I ought to be in it. Good heavens, how everybody screams. How old are you, Bunchy?”
    “Fifty-five, m’dear.”
    “I’m sixty-five. Do you find people very noisy nowadays or are you still too much of a chicken?”
    “I enjoy parties, awfully, but I agree that there ain’t much repose in modern intercourse.”
    “That’s it,” said Lady Alleyn, settling herself in a chair. “No repose. All the same I like the moderns, especially the fledgelings. As Roderick says, they finish their thoughts.
We
only did that in the privacy of our bedrooms and very often asked forgiveness of our Creator for doing it. What do you think of Sarah?”
    “She looks a darling,” said Lord Robert emphatically.
    “She’s a pleasant creature. Amazingly casual but she’s got character and, I think, looks,” said her grandmother. “Who are those young things she’s talking to?”
    “Bridget O’Brien and my young scapegrace of a nephew.”
    “So that’s Evelyn Carrados’s girl. She’s like Paddy, isn’t she?”
    “She’s very like both of ’em. Have you seen Evelyn lately?”
    “We dined there last night for the play. What’s the matter with Evelyn?”
    “Eh?” exclaimed Lord Robert. “You’ve spotted it, have you? You’re a wise woman, m’dear.”
    “She’s all over the place. Does Carrados bully her?”
    “Bully ain’t quite the word. He’s devilish grand and patient, though. But—”
    “But there’s something more. What was the reason for your meeting with Roderick the other day?”
    “Hi!” expostulated Lord Robert in a hurry. “What are you up to?”
    “I shouldn’t let you tell me if you tried. I trust,” said Lady Alleyn untruthfully but with great dignity, “that I am not a curious woman.”
    “That’s pretty rich.”
    “I don’t know what you mean,” said Lady Alleyn grandly. “But I tell you what, Bunchy. I’ve got neurotic women on the brain. Nervous women. Women that are on their guard. It’s a most extraordinary thing,” she continued, rubbing her nose with a gesture that reminded Lord Robert of her son, “but there’s precisely the same look in our hostess’s mascaraed eyes as Evelyn Carrados had in her naturally beautiful ones. Or has this extraordinary drink gone to my head?”
    “The drink,” said Lord Robert firmly, “has gone to your head.”
    “Dear Bunchy, murmured Lady Alleyn. Their eyes met and they exchanged smiles. The cocktail-party surged politely about them. The noise, the smoke, the festive smell of flowers and alcohol, seemed to increase every moment. Wandering parents eddied round Lady Alleyn’s chair. Lord Robert remained beside her listening with pleasure to her cool light voice and looking out of the corner of his eye at Mrs Halcut-Hackett. Apparently all the guests had arrived. She was moving into the room. This was his chance. He turned round and suddenly found himself face to face with Captain Withers. For a moment they stood and looked at each other. Withers was a tall man and Lord Robert was obliged to tilt his head back a little. Withers was a fine arrogant figure, Lord Robert a plump and comical one. But oddly enough it