"Why should we wear our hearts upon our sleeves for cynics such as you
to peck at?" she replied. "The art of dissembling is one of our few
privileges. But do you think the Countess is angry? She is so
beautiful."
"Marvellous!" exclaimed the cynic, raising his eyebrows. "Dear Lady
Chetwold, is it possible that I hear one beautiful woman praise
another's looks?"
The little lady flushed.
"It would be a greater marvel still if you men gave us credit for just a
_little_ generosity. But, tell me Mr. Shelton, where is Adrien Leroy?"
"My dear lady," said Shelton, with a wicked twinkle in his eyes, "if I
knew that Lady Merivale would be down on me like the proverbial load of
bricks. He was to have been here; but his movements are as uncertain as
her ladyship's smiles. See, she has fairly extinguished poor
Hadley--drowned in sweetness!"
"You are a horror," laughed his companion as the waltz came to an end.
"I shall be quite afraid of you in the future--I'd no idea you were so
cynical."
"I could never be cynical with _you_," he said gallantly. "By the way,
have you seen Prince Pfowsky to-night?"
"Yes," said Lady Chetwold, "I am engaged to him for the next dance--if
he remembers it.
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