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to her own situation gave her a most extraordinary sensation. Then, after a moment, she asked quietly, “What do you want me to do about it?”
    “Nothing very drastic.” He smiled. “I just wanted you to know the position—and to judge it as leniently as you could. And I would suggest that I am allowed to make the explanations to my parents, in my own way and at my own time.”
    “Why, of course! I hadn ’ t thought of anything else.”
    “Hadn ’ t you?” He looked amused. “I suppose I keep on expecting you to react like Celia, just because you look so much like her. As you ’ ve probably noticed, she ’ s tremendously impulsive and eager. In your position, she would certainly want to take the initiative.”
    “She may still,” Freda observed shrewdly.
    “Then we must manage to deflect her,” he replied, and, in some odd way, Freda was flattered by the use of “we” in this context.
    “Would you like to come and dance now?” he enquired.
    “I—I don ’ t think I dance well enough.”
    “Well enough for what?” he enquired, with that touch of amusement again.
    “I mean—I ’ ve never been to a real dance in my life. And I—I ’ m sure everyone here knows lots of steps that I wouldn ’ t know at all and —”
    “I ’ m a very moderate performer myself,” he assured her. “Come and let ’ s see how we get on together.”
    So, half pleased, half apprehensive, she went with him into the other room. And here she made the satisfactory discovery that she danced quite well enough for an informal party at the Ronaldsons. In fact, she was enjoying herself immensely, and had just decided that Brian Vanner was a natural smoother of difficult paths, when she became aware that the girl called Coralie was looking across the room at her as though she had no right to be on the earth at all.
    Until that moment, so far as she knew, Freda had never inspired even a mild dislike in anyone (If one excepted that little brush with Laurence Clumber, that was to say.) But then, of course, she had never before been in a position to provoke envy.
    It gave her a queer and disagreeable shock to see naked dislike in anyone ’ s eyes. But the moment was not without a tingling sensation of rather frightening triumph too. For Coralie ’ s dislike and envy were due solely to the fact that Freda was dancing with Brian Vanner, and so, in an odd way, they were a measure of Freda ’ s social and personal success that evening.
    Freda glanced up into the strong, attractive face of the man who was dancing with her. But either he had not noticed Coralie (a pleasing thought in itself) or else he attached no importance to her glowering looks. At any rate, he merely smiled briefly at Freda and asked,
    “Enjoying yourself?”
    “Enormously,” she said truthfully. And, after that, Coralie didn ’ t seem to matter any more.
    Later in the evening, Celia, flushed and sparkling from the pleasure of what was evidently a specially exciting evening for her, managed to get Freda to herself for a few minutes.
    “Are you having a nice time, darling?” She squeezed Freda ’ s arm affectionately. “You look so pretty, with your cheeks flushed and your eyes so bright.”
    “I was thinking just the same thing of you,” Freda replied, with a smile. “Yes, I ’ m having a lovely time, thank you. Bri—everyone has been so kind.”
    “They ’ re a nice crowd,” Celia agreed carelessly. “By the way, who ’ s the handsome hunk of man who claimed you as an old friend?”
    “The handsome — ? Oh, that ’ s Laurence Clumber.”
    “I remember the name now. I ’ ve met him before, I think. But you know him very well, I take it? Are you sweet on him?” enquired Celia, with candour.
    “ Sweet on him?” gasped Freda. “No. I can ’ t st—I mean, we ’ re not on those terms at all.”
    “On what terms are you, then?” enquired Celia curiously.
    “I—I knew his great-aunt very well,” stated Freda sedately.
    “Good heavens,