He came to her, and put his arm round her waist, giving her a quick squeeze.

“Straight-laced little Puritan. One of these days I really will shock you. Didn’t it like me to admire its powder-puff, then?”

“Don’t be so idiotic!” she said, but tempered it with a laugh.

They went back into the sitting-room; Elizabeth was excited; it was so delightfully wicked to let Wendell flirt with her.

“Have you seen the show at the Vaudeville, Betty?” he asked. “There’s an absolutely wonderful woman playing in the revue; knocks Delysia into a cocked hat. By Jove, she is hot stuff! Beautiful too. Shows just about as much of herself as she can, without overstepping the limit.”

“How horrible!” Elizabeth said.

He was not at all abashed, but roared with laughter, and would have pinched her arm if she had not quickly withdrawn it.

“No good my asking you to come and see it then, I suppose?”

“No,” she said.

He ought not to say these things to her. She could not imagine why he did it.

On their way out of London on Sunday they drove through Hyde Park. Elizabeth, to her surprise, saw Nina and Mrs. Trelawney. They saw her, she knew, but they looked away quickly and became interested in a nearby tree. Elizabeth blushed hotly, and was silent for a long while. For the first time in her life someone had cut her.

Sarah, who met Elizabeth and Wendell at Roehampton, was downright to the point of rudeness in her disapproval. She went to tea with Elizabeth, and asked,

“Who was that man you were with at Ranelagh yesterday?”

Elizabeth did not appreciate that tone from Sarah. Coldly she answered,

“You’ve met him. Charles Wendell.”

“Oh, that weed!” Sarah said scornfully. “What on earth do you see in him?”

Elizabeth’s eyes began to flash.

“I like him. He is a friend of mine.”

“Yes, so it seems. You ought to be jolly careful whom you go about with, placed as you are.”

Criticism of her actions from an unmarried girl was something Elizabeth could not brook.

“Thank you, Sarah, I am quite capable of looking after myself.”

“Looks like it,” Sarah said. “Personally, I never had a weakness for brown-eyed fops. Furthermore, I don’t like his round and vacant face.”

“Indeed?” Elizabeth said sweetly. “But did I ask for your opinion?”

Sarah glanced at her critically.

“Um, yes. You’re waking up a bit. A year ago you’d have been too soft to snub me. Seriously, however, be careful, Elizabeth.”

“Have some more cake,” Elizabeth said. “I know Charles rather better than you do.”

That ended it. Sarah wanted to say much more, but she dared not in face of Elizabeth’s changed attitude. All she said was,

“Funny what a queer streak of obstinacy you’ve got.”