The clever hostess having let fall that several distinguished guests from France would be present, the world had flocked to her doors to catch, like the gossip-hungry vultures they were, a glimpse of them. “Is that you, Nigel?” she asked. ‘Your mystery lady, I mean. ’ ‘He did, you know,’ grinned Gerald. I suppose most of our daughters would marry organ-grinders if they had a chance—at that age. She explained she was expecting an important interview, and asked that her visitor should be duly shown in. "Stop a minute," cried Jack, detaining his mistresses. ‘You are not sympathique in the very least. “David Courtlaw!” she repeated. Consternation gripped him. .
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