“Yes, of course I am. Do let me, Aunt Anne!”

“You must do as your father wishes,” Miss Arden replied in a tone that warned Lawrence that if harm came of it the blame was his.

He was relieved to find how easily he had won his point, and rubbed his hands together, nodding at Elizabeth.

“And my little girl will have to have some frocks, won’t she? I’ve been thinking of making you a dress-allowance for some time. What do you think of that?”

Elizabeth thought it a delightful idea, but she wished her father would not talk to her as though she were a child.

“Thanks awfully, Father,” she said dutifully. “I’d love it.”

“And will yon let your old Daddy come and help you choose your pretty dance-frocks?”

Elizabeth had never called her father Daddy, and she looked at him now in undisguised astonishment. So did Miss Arden, but her look said frankly that she thought Lawrence was mad. This new attitude he had adopted was wholly unnecessary. It was almost as though he were trying to draw Elizabeth away from her.

“And is Auntie to be shut out of all these exciting plans?” she asked brightly.

“Oh, Auntie!” Elizabeth cried, embracing her. “How can you!” But even as she said it she was conscious of a wicked little hope that Aunt Anne would not always want to be one of the party. She didn’t care for Father much —at least, she loved him, of course, because he was her father—but going to dances with him sounded more attractive than going to them with Aunt Anne. And very desperately she hoped that she might be allowed to choose her own frocks, and—more desperately still—her own lingeries. Aunt Anne said that the modern lingerie was almost indecent, and that it was most unsuitable to have everything made in silk; she inclined to stout materials with high necks, and buttons down the front. Elizabeth always agreed that they were far more sensible, but secretly she hated them, and longed for a set of silk underclothing, in primrose, she thought, just to see what it was like. Perhaps this new, playful Father would understand, only it would be rather difficult to broach such a delicate subject to him.

Lawrence paid her allowance into the bank, and gave Elizabeth a cheque-book, which made her feel most emancipated and important. He criticised her efforts at hairdressing, and for a whole hour, under the hostile eye of Miss Arden, taught her how to put it up so that the wave in it showed to the best advantage.

He was cunning when he took Elizabeth to choose her evening frocks. He came home from the office at midday, quite unexpectedly, and said that he was going to take Elizabeth to Bond Street. He pretended that he had forgotten it was the afternoon set apart by Miss Arden for the Mothers’ Meeting.