Dodo was seated in her room in Jack's house in town, intermittently arguing with him and Miss Grantham and Edith and Berts, and in intervals looking up as many of her friends as she could remember the names of and asking them to her dance. The month was November, and the dance was for to-day week, which was the first of December, and as far as she had got at present, it appeared that all her friends were in town and that they would all come. Nadine was similarly employed next door, and as they both asked anybody who occurred to them, the same people frequently got asked twice over.

"Which," said Dodo, "is an advantage, as it looks as if we really wanted them very much. Oh, is that Esther? Esther, we are having a dance on December the first, and will you all come? Yes: wasn't it a good idea? That is nice. Of course, delighted if your mother cares to come, too—"

"Then I shan't," said Berts.

"Berts, shut up," said Dodo in a penetrating whisper. "Yes, darling Esther, Berts said something, but I don't know what it was as they are all talking together. Yes, a cotillion. Good-by. Look out Hendrick's Stores, Grantie. But I really won't lead the cotillion with Berts. It is too ridiculous: a man may not lead the cotillion with his grandmother: it comes in the prayer-book."

"Three thousand and seven," said Miss Grantham. "P'd'n't'n."

"Three double-o seven, Padd," said Dodo briskly, "please, miss. I always say, 'please, miss,' and then they are much pleasanter. I used to say 'I'm Princess Waldenech, please, miss,' but they never believed it, and said 'Garn!' But I was: darling Jack, I was! No, my days of leading the cotillion came to an end under William the Fourth. There is nothing so ridiculous as seeing an old thing— No, I'm not the Warwick Hotel? Do I sound like the Warwick Hotel?"

Dodo's face suddenly assumed an expression of seraphic interest.

"It's too entrancing," she whispered. "I'm sure it's a nice man, because he wants to marry me. He says I didn't meet him in the Warwick Hotel this morning. That was forgetful. Yes? Oh, he's rung off: he has jilted me. I wish I had said I was the Warwick Hotel: it was stupid of me. I wonder if you can be married by telephone with a clergyman taking the place of 'please, miss.' Where had we got to? Oh, yes, Hendrick's: three double-o seven, you idiot. I mean, please, miss. What? Thank you, miss. No, Nadine and Berts shall lead it."

"I would sooner lead with Lady Ayr," said Berts. "Nadine always forgets everything—"

"Oh, Hendrick's, is it?" said Dodo. "Yes, Lady Chesterford. I am really, and I want a band for the evening of December the first. No, not a waistband. Music. Yes, send somebody round." Dodo put down the ear-piece.

"Let us strive not to do several things together," she said. "For the moment we will concentrate on the cotillion. Jack dear, why did you suggest I should lead? It has led to so much talking, of which I have had to do the largest part."

"I want you to," he said. "I'll take you to Egypt in the spring, if you will. I won't otherwise."

"Darling, you are too unfair for words. You want to make an ass of me. You want everybody to say 'Look at that silly old grandmama.' I probably shall be a grandmama quite soon, if Nadine is going to marry Seymour in January—'Silly old grandmama,' they will say, 'capering about like a two-year-old.' Because I shall caper: if I lead, I shan't be able to resist kicking up."

Jack came across the room and sat on the table by her.

"Don't you want to, Dodo?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, darling, I should love to. I only wanted pressing. Oh, my beloved Berts, what larks! We'll have hoops, and snowballs, and looking-glass, and wooly-bear—don't you know wooly-bear?—and paper-bags and obstacles, and balance. And then the very next day I shall settle down, and behave as befits my years and riches and honor. I am old and Jack is rich, and has endowed me with all his worldly goods, and we are both strictly honorable. But I feel it's a hazardous experiment. If I hear somebody saying, as no doubt I shall, 'Surely, Lady Chesterford is a little old?' I shall collapse in the middle of the floor, and burst into several tears. And then I shall wipe my eyes, both of them if both have cried, and if not, one, and say, 'Beloved Berts, come on!' And on we shall go."

"You haven't asked Hugh yet," said Miss Grantham, looking at the list.

"Nadine did," said Dodo. "He said he wasn't certain. They argued."

"They do," said Berts. "Aunt Dodo, may I come to dine this evening, and have a practice afterwards?"

"Yes, my dear. Are you going? Till this evening then."

Dodo turned to Jack, and spoke low.

"Oh, Jack," she said, "Waldenech's in town. Nadine saw him yesterday."

"Glad I didn't," said Jack.

"I'm sure you are, darling. But here we all are, you know. You can't put him out like a candle. About the dance, I mean. I think I had better ask him. He won't come, if I ask him."

"He won't come anyhow, my dear," said Jack.

"You can't tell. I know him better than you. He's nasty, you know, poor dear. If I didn't ask him, he might come. He might think he ought to have been asked, and so come instead. Whereas if he was asked, he would probably think it merely insulting of me, and so stop at home."

"Don't whisper to each other," said Edith loudly. "I can't bear a husband and wife whispering to each other. It looks as if they hadn't got over the honeymoon. Dodo, I haven't had a single word with you yet—"

"Darling Edith, you haven't. If you only would go to the other end of the telephone, I would talk to you for hours, simply to thwart the 'please, miss' who asks if we haven't done yet. The only comfortable conversation is conducted on the telephone. Then you say 'hush' to everybody else in the room. Indeed, it isn't usually necessary to say 'hush.' Anybody with a proper interest in the affairs of other people always listens to what you say, trying to reconstruct what the inaudible voice says. Jack was babbling down the telephone the other day, when I particularly wanted to talk, but when he said 'Never let him shave her again,' how could I interrupt?"

"Did he shave her again?" asked Miss Grantham. "Who was she?"

"You shouldn't have said that," said Dodo, "because now I have to explain. It was the poodle, who had been shaved wrong, and she had puppies next day, and they probably all had hair in the unfashionable places. Please talk to each other, and not about poodles. Jack and I have a little serious conversation to get through."

"I will speak," said Edith, "because it matters to me. We've let our house, Dodo, at least Bertie let it, and has gone to Bath, because he is rheumatic; Berts can stay at the Bath Club, because he isn't, but I want to stay with you."

"The house is becoming like Basle railway-station," remarked Jack.

"Yes, dear. Every proper house in town is," said Dodo. "A house in London isn't a house, it is a junction. People dine and lunch and sleep if they have time. I haven't. Yes, Edith, do come. Jack wants you, too, only he doesn't say so, because he is naturally reticent."

Edith instantly got up.

"Then may I have some lunch at once?" she said. "Cold beef will do. But I have a rehearsal at half-past one."

The telephone bell rang, and Dodo took up the ear-piece.

"No, Lady Chesterford is out," she said. "But who is it? It's Waldenech, Jack," she said in a low voice. "No, she hasn't come in yet. What? No: she isn't expected at all. She is quite unexpected."

She replaced the instrument.

"I recognized his voice," she said, "and I oughtn't to have said I was unexpected, because perhaps he will guess. But he sounded a bit thick, don't they say? Yes, dear Edith, have some cold beef, because it is much nicer than anything else. I shall come and have lunch in one minute, too, as I didn't have any breakfast. Take Grantie away with you, and I will join you."

"I won't have cold beef, whatever happens," said Grantie.

Dodo turned round, facing Jack, as soon as the others had left the room, and laid her hand on his knee.

"Jack, I feel sure I am right," she said. "I don't want Waldenech here any more than you do. But after all, he is Nadine's father. I wish Madge or Belle or somebody who writes about society would lay down for us the proper behavior for re-married wives towards their divorced husbands."

"I can tell you the proper behavior of divorced husbands towards re-married wives," said Jack.

"Yes, darling, but you must remember that Waldenech has nothing to do with proper behavior. He always behaved most improperly. If he hadn't, I shouldn't be your wife now. I think that must be an instance of all things working together for good, as St. Peter says."

"Paul," remarked Jack.

"Very likely, though Peter might be supposed to know most about wives. Jack, dear, let us settle this at once, because I am infernally hungry, and the thought of Edith's eating cold beef makes me feel homesick. I think I had much better ask Waldenech to our dance. There he is: I've known him pretty well, and it's just because he is nothing more than an acquaintance now, that I wish to ask him. To ask him will show the—the gulf between us."

Jack shook his head.

"I prefer to show the gulf by not asking him," he said.

Dodo frowned, and tapped the skirt of her riding-habit with her whip. She was rather tired and very hungry, for she had been playing bridge till two o'clock the night before, and had got up at eight to go out riding, and, meaning to have breakfast afterwards, had found herself plunged in the arrangements for her ball, which had lasted without intermission till this moment. But she felt unwilling to give this point up, unless Jack absolutely put his foot down with regard to it.

"I think I am right," she said. "He is rather a devil."

"All the more reason for not asking him."

"Do you mean that you forbid me?" she asked.

He thought for a moment.

"Yes, I forbid you," he said.

Dodo got up at once, flicked him in the face with the end of her riding-whip, and before he had really time to blink, kissed him on exactly the same spot, which happened to be the end of his nose.

"That is finished, then," she said in the most good-humored voice. "And now I have both the whip and the whip-hand. If anything goes wrong, darling, I shall say 'I told you so,' till you wish you had never been born."

He caught her whip and her hands in his.

"You couldn't make me wish that," he said.

Her whole face melted into a sunlight of adorable smiles.

"Oh, Jack, do you really mean that?" she asked. "And because of me?"

He pulled her close to him.

"I suppose I should mean in spite of you," he said. "Go and eat with that ogre Edith. And then, darling, will you rest a little? You look rather tired."

She raised her eyes to his.

"But I am tired," she said. "It would be a disgrace not to be tired every day. It would show you hadn't made the most of it."

"I don't like you to be tired," he said, "especially since it isn't lunch-time yet. You haven't got much more to do, to-day, I hope."

"But lots, and all so jolly. Oh, my dear, the world is as full as the sea at high-tide. It would be wretched not to fling oneself into it. But it is only high-tide till after my dance. Then we go down to Meering, and snore, and sleep like pigs and eat like kittens, and sprout like mushrooms."

"You've asked a houseful there," objected Jack.

"Yes, darling, but it's only people like you and Esther and Hugh. I shan't bother about you."

"Is Hugh coming there?" he asked.

"Yes. He goes abroad directly afterwards, as he has exchanged from the Foreign Office into the Embassy at Rome for six months. He is wise, I think. He doesn't want to be here when Nadine is married, nor for some time afterwards. But he wants to see her again first."

"The rest is wise," said Jack, "but that is abominably foolish."

"Perhaps it is, but how one hates a young man to be altogether wise. A wise young man is quite intolerable. In fact wisdom generally is intolerable. It would be intolerable of me to lie down after lunch, and not eat and drink what I chose. You would be intolerable if you didn't make yourself so utterly foolish about me. Oh, Jack, let us die if necessary, but don't let us be wise before that."

Jack had nothing to say to this remarkable aspiration, and Dodo went out to join Edith. But he sat still on the edge of the table after she had gone, not altogether at ease. During the last month or so, he had several times experienced impulses not to be accounted for rationally, which had made him ask her if she felt quite well, and now that he collected these occasions in his mind, he could not recollect any very reassuring response on her part. She had told him not to fuss, she had stood before him, radiant, brilliant and said, "Do I look particularly unwell? Why do you want to spoil the loveliest time of all my life?" But she did not seem to have given him any direct answer at all, and the cumulative effect of those possible evasions troubled him a little. But he soon told himself that such a cloud was born of his imagination only, for it was impossible to conceive, when he let himself contemplate the memory of those days since last July, that there could be anything wrong behind them, in so serene a beneficence of happiness were they wrapped. He had never dreamed that the world held such store, and he had not ever so faintly realized how jejune and barren his life had been before. He, for all his fifty years, had not yet lived one-half of them, for less than half himself had passed through the months that made them up. It was as if all his life he had dreamed, dreamed with God knew what shocks and catastrophes that Dodo was his, and last July only he awoke to find that his arms were indeed about her, and that she herself was pressed close to him. And she, too, had told him that she was happy, not pleased merely, or excited or thrilled, but happy. Incredible as it seemed to his modest soul, her happiness was one with his. It seemed there was nothing left to ask God for; the only possible attitude was to stand up and praise and thank Him. Jack did that every day and night that passed.

Dodo, when she left her husband, had not gone straight to the dining-room to join Edith and the cold beef. For half an hour before, she had been conscious of a queer and rather sickening pain, that had made it an effort to continue enthusiastically telephoning and arguing. She had had no real doubt in her own mind that it was the result of a rather strenuous morning without any food except the slice of bread and butter that had accompanied her early bedroom tea, but she thought that she would go upstairs and have her hot bath, which was sure to make her quite comfortable, before she ate. Her bathroom which opened out of her bedroom was prepared for her, the water steaming and smelling of the delicious verbena-salts which her maid had put into it, and convinced that she would feel perfectly fit again after it, she quickly undressed, and went in with bare feet to enjoy herself. But even as she took off her dressing-gown, she had a start of pain that for the moment frightened her, and caused her to stand naked by her bath, holding on to the edge of it. Then the pain gradually drew away, as if pulled out of her by a string, and in a minute more she was quite herself again. But there was the memory of it left, like a black patch, so it seemed, even when it had quite ceased. However, it had gone now, and instinctively obeying the habit of years, she swiftly turned her mind to contemplate the thoroughly delightful things that lay in front of her, rather than the disturbing moment that had passed now, leaving only a black patch in memory. But before she slipped into the hot aromatic water, she wiped the sweat from her forehead. She splashed the steaming water over her back, wriggling a little at the touch of it.

"O Lord, how nice!" she said to herself. "And it's hardly possible to bear it. And that reminds me that I utterly forgot to say my prayers this morning, because I was in such a hurry. Any one would have been on such a lovely morning, with such a lovely horse waiting at the door. But I am having the nicest time that anybody ever had, and I'll try not to be quite such a disgrace as I used to be."

Dodo gave a loud sigh of reverent content and splashed again. It must be understood that she was saying her forgotten prayers.

"And Jack's a perfect darling," she went on, "and I am so pleased to love somebody. I never loved anybody before really, if you know what I mean by love, except perhaps Nadine. It makes the most tremendous difference, and one doesn't think about oneself absolutely all the time, though I daresay very nearly. Of course I was always fond of people, but I think that was chiefly because they were mostly so nice to me. I must go to church next Sunday, which is to-morrow, and do all this properly, but it would have been much more convenient if it had been the day after to-morrow, as I think I promised Jack to play golf with him to-morrow. But I'll see what can be done. Now I've dropped the soap, and isn't everything extraordinarily mixed up! Oh, please don't let me have any more pain like what I had just now, if it's all the same; but of course if I must have it, well, there it is. But I hope it doesn't mean anything nasty—"

Dodo dropped the soap which she had just rescued from the bottom of the cloudy water, and looked up with bright eyes.

"Oh, my dear, can it be that?" she said aloud. "Is it possible?"

She recollected that she had said "my dear" when she was by way of saying her forgotten prayers, and so added "Amen" very loudly and piously. Then, quite revivified, she got out, dried herself with great speed and went downstairs half-dressed, with an immense fur-coat to cover deficiencies, since it was impossible to wait any longer for food. She felt no fatigue any more, but a sudden intense eagerness at the thought of what possibly that pain might mean. It seemed almost incredible, but she found herself almost longing for a return of that which had frightened her before.

It was impossible for her to cram any more engagements into that day, since they already fitted into each other like the petals of a rose not yet fully blown, but she made an appointment with her doctor for next morning. The interview was not a long one, but Dodo came out from it, wreathed in smiles, immensely excited, and hurried home, where she went straight up to Jack's room. She seized him with both hands, and kissed him indiscriminately.

"Oh, my dear, you can't possibly guess," she said, "because it is quite too ridiculous, and only a person like me could possibly have done anything of the kind, and you're Zacharias, but you needn't be dumb. Oh, Jack, don't you see? Yes: it's that. I'm going to have a baby, instead of cancer. I was prepared—at least not quite—for its being cancer, which I shouldn't have enjoyed at all, but Dr. Ingram says it's the other thing. Did you ever hear anything so nice, and I am a very wonderful woman, aren't I, and pray God it will be a boy! Oh, Jack, think how bored I was with the bearing of my first child. I didn't deserve it, and you used to come and cheer me up. And then, poor little innocent, it was taken from me. Poor little chap: he would have been Lord Chesterford now instead of you if he had lived. Won't it seem funny giving birth to the same baby, so to speak, twice? Ah, my dear, but it's not the same! It's your child this time, Jack, and I shan't be bored this time. You see I didn't really become a woman at all till lately. I was merely a sprightly little devil, and so I suppose God is giving me another chance. Jack, it simply must be a boy: I shall love to hear Lord Harchester cry this time."

Jack, though informed that he needn't be like Zacharias, had been dumb because there was no vacant moment to speak in. The news had amazed and astounded him.

"Oh, Dodo!" he said. "Next to yourself, that is the best gift of all. But I'm not sure I forgive you, for suspecting you were ill, and not telling me."

"Then I shall get along quite nicely without your forgiveness," said she. "Forgiveness, indeed! Or will it be twins? Wouldn't that be exciting? But a boy anyhow: I've ordered him, and he shall have one blue eye because he's yours and one brown eye because he's mine, and so he'll be like a Welsh collie, and every one will say: 'What a pretty little dog; does he bite?' Jack, I hope he'll be rather a rip when he grows up and make his love to other people's wives. I suppose I oughtn't to wish that, but I can't help it. I like a boy with a little dash in him. He shall be about as tall as you, but much better looking, and oh, to think that I once had a boy before, and didn't care! My conscience! I care now, and only yesterday I said I should probably soon be a grandmother, and now I've got to leave out the grand, and be just a humble mother first. I'm not humble: I'm just as proud as I can stick together."

Suddenly this amazing flood of speech stopped, and Dodo grew dim-eyed, and laid her head on her husband's shoulder.

"My soul doth magnify the Lord!" she whispered.

The night of Dodo's ball had arrived, and she was going to lead the cotillion, but not dance more than she felt to be absolutely necessary. She had told everybody what was going to happen to her, in strict privacy, which was clearly the best way of keeping it secret for the present. Since she was not going to dance more than a step or two she had put on all the jewels she could manage to attach to herself, including the girdle of great emeralds that Waldenech had given her. This was a magnificent adornment, far too nice to give back to him when she divorced him, and she meant to let Nadine have it, as soon as she could bear to part with it herself, which did not seem likely to happen in the immediate future. It consisted of large square stones set in brilliants, and long pear-shaped emeralds depended from it. Jack had once asked her how she could bear to wear it, and she had said: "Darling, when emeralds are as big as that, they help you to bear a good deal. They make a perfect Spartan of me." In other respects she wore what she called the "nursery fender," which was a diamond crown so high that children would have been safe from falling over it into the fire, the famous Chesterford pearls, and a sort of breast-plate of rubies, like the High-priest.

"I suppose it's dreadfully vulgar to wear so many jewels," she said to Jack, as they took their stand at the top of the stairs, where Dodo intended to remain and receive her guests, as long as she could bear not being in the ball-room, "but most people who have got very nice stones like me I notice are vulgar. The truly refined people are those who have got three garnets and one zircon. They also say that big pearls, great eggs like these, are vulgar and seed-pearls tasteful. What a word, 'tasteful'! And they talk of people's being very simply and exquisitely dressed. Thank God, no one can say I'm simply dressed to-night. I'm not: I'm the most elaborate object for miles round. Jack, when my baby— Dear Lady Ayr, how nice to see you, and Esther and John. Seymour dined here, and he has been taking notes of our clothes for the new paper called Gowns!"

As in the old days, when Dodo piped, the world danced, and she was as vital, as charged with that magnetism that spreads enjoyment round itself more infectiously than influenza, to-night as ever. Her beauty, too, was like a rose, full-blown, but without one petal yet fallen: and she stood there, in the glory of her incomparable form, jeweled and superb, a Juno decked for a feast among the high gods. All the world of her friends streamed up the stairs to be welcomed by that wonderful smiling face, and many instead of going in to the ball-room waited round the balustrade at the stair-head watching her. By degrees the tide of arriving guests slackened, and she turned to Jack.

"Jack dear, the band is turning all my blood into champagne," she said. "Come and have one turn with me round the ball-room. Why are they all standing about, instead of going to dance? Do they want to be shown how? Just once round, or perhaps twice, and then I will stop quiet until the cotillion."

Dodo suddenly knit her eyebrows, and looked sharply down into the hall below.

"I was right, and you were wrong," she said. "There's Waldenech just come in. He is not going to come upstairs. Wait here for me."

Jack stepped forward.

"No, that's for me to do," he said

Dodo laid her hand on his arm.

"Do as I tell you, my dear," she said. "Wait here: it won't take me a minute."

She went straight down into the hall: all smiles and gaiety had left her face, but its vitality was quite unimpaired. The color that was in her cheeks had left them, but it was not fear that had driven it away, but anger. He was just receiving a ticket for his hat and coat, and she went straight up to him.

"Waldenech, take your hat and coat, and go away," she said. "You must have come to the wrong house, you were not asked here."

He turned at the sound of her voice, and looked up at her.

"You incomparable creature," he said rather thickly. "You pearl!"

"Give the Prince his hat and coat," said Dodo. "Now go, Waldenech, before I disgrace you. I mean it: if you do not go quietly and at once, you shall be turned out."

His eyes wandered unsteadily from her face to her bosom, and down to her waist where the great girdle gleamed and shone.

"You still wear the jewels I gave you," he said.

Dodo instantly undid the clasp, and the girdle fell on to the carpet.

"I do not wear them any more," she said. "Take them, and go."

He stood there for a moment without moving. Then he bent down and picked them up.

"I ask your pardon most humbly," he said. "I am a gentleman, really. Please let me see you put the girdle on again, before I go; and say you forgive me. If your husband knows I am here, ask his pardon for me also."

Some great wave of pity came over Dodo, utterly quenching her anger.

"Oh, Waldenech, you have all my forgiveness, my dear," she said. "But take the jewels."

"I ask you to give me that sign of your forgiveness," he said.

Dodo smiled at him.

"Fasten it yourself, then," she said.

His fingers halted over this, but in a moment he had found and secured the clasp.

"Good-night," he said.

The whole scene had lasted not more than a minute, and scarcely half-a-dozen people had seen her speaking to him, or knew who it was. Berts, who had just arrived, was one of these. Dodo turned to him.

"Ah, there you are, Berts," she said. "We are going to begin the cotillion exactly at twelve. Yes, poor dear Waldenech looked in, but he couldn't stop. You might remember not to tell Nadine. And why wasn't Edith here for dinner? Or isn't she staying here now? Now I come to think of it I haven't seen her all day."

"She left you yesterday," said Berts, "and I've just left her at home eating a chop and correcting proofs of a part-song. She was also singing. She's coming though, and says she will lead the cotillion with me, and she's sure you oughtn't to. She didn't say why."

Dodo went up to Jack.

"He went like a lamb, poor dear," she said, "though I thought for a moment he was going to stop like a lion. It gave me a little heart-ache, Jack, for, after all, you know— Now we are going twice round the ball-room. It isn't much of a heart-ache, it's only a little one, and I expect it will soon stop."

This, it may be expected, was the case, for certainly Dodo did not behave as if she had any kind of ache, however little, anywhere, and, whether she danced or sat still, was the sun and center of the brilliant scene. Wall-flowers raised their heads on her approach, and were galvanized into vitality. She ordained that there should be a waltz in which nobody should take part who was not over forty, led off herself with Lord Ayr, who had not had a wink of sleep all evening, and was far too much surprised to be capable of resistance, and convinced him that his dancing days were not nearly over yet. All manner of women who had hoped that nobody dreamed that they were more than thirty-five at the most followed her, reckless of the antiquity which they had publicly and irrevocably acknowledged, while Edith Arbuthnot, arriving in the middle of this and being quite unable to find a disengaged gentleman of suitable years, pirouetted up and down the room all by herself, until she clawed hold of Jack, who was taking the breathless Lady Ayr to get some strictly unalcoholic refreshment.

"I don't know how I came to do it," said this lady to Esther, as she drank her lemonade. "I haven't danced for years. Somehow I feel as if it was Lady Chesterford's fault. She has got into everybody's head, it seems to me. We're all behaving like boys and girls. Fancy Ayr dancing, too! Ayr, I saw you dancing."

Lord Ayr had come in with Dodo, at the end of this, unutterably briskened up.

"And I saw you dancing, my dear," he said. "And I hope you feel all the better for it, because I do."

"We all do," said Dodo, "and we'll all do it again. I want everything at once, a cigarette and an ice and a glass of champagne and Berts. Esther, be angelic and fetch me Berts. Don't tell him only I want him, but fetch him. Oh, Jack, isn't it fun: yes, darling, we're going to begin the cotillion immediately, and I'm going to be ever so quiet. Edith, it was dear of you to offer to take my place, but I wouldn't give it up to Terpsichore herself or even Salome. Jack dear, go and make every one go and sit down in two rows round the ball-room, and if anybody finds a rather large diamond about, it's probably mine, though I never wrote my name on it.... Wasn't it careless? It resembles the Koh-i-noor. Oh, Berts, there you are. Now don't lose your head, but give all the plainest women the most favors. Then the pretty ones will easily see the plan, and the plain ones won't. It's the greatest happiness for the plainest number."

Certainly it was the most successful cotillion. As Dodo had arranged, all the more unattractive people got selected first, and all the more attractive, as Dodo had foreseen, saw exactly what was happening. The style was distinctly anti-Leap-year and in the mirror-figure men, instead of women, rejected the faces in the glass, and Lord Ayr had nothing whatever to say to his wife, who was instantly accepted by Jack. And at the end, the band preceding, they danced through the entire house, from cellar to garret. They waltzed through drawing-rooms and dining-room, and up the stairs, and through Dodo's bedroom, and through Jack's dressing-room, where his pajamas were lying on his bed (Berts put them on en passant), and into cul-de-sacs, and impenetrable servants' rooms. And somehow it was Dodo all the time who inspired these childish orgies: those near her saw her, those behind danced wildly after her. There was no accounting for it, except in the fact that while she was enjoying herself so enormously, it was impossible not to enjoy too. Sometimes it was she shrieking, "Yes, straight on," sometimes it was her laugh-choked voice, saying "No, don't go in there," but the fact that she was leading them, with her nursery fender, and her vitality, and her ropes of pearls, and her complete abandon to the spirit of dancing, with Berts for partner in Jack's pajamas, made a magnet that it was impossible not to follow. They passed through bedroom and attic, they went twice round the huge kitchen, where the chef, at Dodo's imperious command, laid down his culinary implements (which at the moment meant an ice-pail) and joined the dance with the first kitchen-maid. Then Dodo saw a footman standing idle, and called to him, "Take my maid, William," and William with a broad grin embraced a perfectly willing Frenchwoman of great attractions, and joined in the dance. Like the fairies in a Midsummer-night's Dream, they danced the whole hour through, Dodo with Berts, the chef with the kitchen-maid, William with Dodo's maid, Lord Ayr with Nadine, Lady Ayr with somebody whom nobody knew by sight, who had probably come there by mistake, and the first twenty couples or so finished up in the cellar. This, though it seemed improvised, had been provided for, and there were cane-chairs to rest in, and bottles instantly opened. The rest, following the band, danced their way back to the supper-room, where they were almost immediately joined by the cellar party, who were hungry as well as thirsty, and had nothing to eat down below.

It was between three and four o'clock that the last guests took their ways. As the dance had been announced to take place from ten till two, the cordial spirit of the invitation had been made good. And at length Dodo found herself alone with Jack.

"Lovely, just lovely," she said, as he unclasped her diamond collar. "Oh, Jack, what a darling world it is!"

"Not tired?"

Dodo faced round, and her brilliance and freshness was a thing to marvel at

"Look at me!" she said. "Tell me if I look tired!"

He laid the collar down on her table: her neck seemed to him so infinitely more beautiful than the gorgeous bauble with which it had been covered, a Beauty released from beauteous bonds.

"Not very. Ah, Dodo, and this is the best of all, when they have all gone, and you are left."

She put her face up to his.

"Why, of course," she said. "Do you suppose I wasn't looking forward to this one minute alone with you all the evening? I was, my dear, though if I said I thought of it all the time, I should be telling a silly lie. But it was anchored firmly in my mind all the time. Oh, what pretty speeches for a middle-aged old couple to make to each other! But the fact is that we get on very nicely together. Good-night, old boy. It's all too lovely. Oh, Daddy! Fancy becoming Daddy! Oh, by the way, did Hugh come? I didn't see him."

"Yes, he sat out a couple of dances with Nadine, and then went away."

"Poor old chap!" said Dodo.

As has been mentioned, Dodo proposed to take her family and a great many other people as well to spend Christmas down at Meering, which at this inclement time of the year often had spells of warm and genial weather. Scattered through the same weeks there were to be several shooting-parties at Winston, but motor-cars, driven at a sufficiently high speed, made light of the difficulty of being in two places at the same time, and on the day after the dance she talked these arrangements over with Nadine.

"In any case," she said, "you can be hostess in one house and I, in the other, so that we can be in two places at once quite easily, so Jack is wrong as usual. Jack dear, I said 'as usual.'"

Jack got up: it was he who had made the ill-considered remark that you can't be in two places at once.

"I heard," he said, "and you may hear, too, that I will not have you going up to North Wales every other day, and flying down again the next. Otherwise you may settle what you like. Personally, I shall be at Winston almost all the time, as there's a heap of business to be done, and as Nadine hates shooting-parties—"

"Oh, a story!" said Nadine.

"Well, my dear, you always do your best to spoil them by making a large quantity of young gentlemen, who have been asked to shoot, sit round you and talk to you instead."

"Papa Jack, if you want to call me a flirt, pray do so. I will forgive you instantly. And to save you trouble, I will tell you what you are driving to—"

"At," said Jack.

"Driving to," repeated Nadine with considerable asperity, for she was aware she was wrong. "You want me to be at Meering, and Mama to be at Winston. So why not say so without calling me a flirt?"

"This daughter of Eve—" began Jack.

"My name is Dorothea," interrupted Dodo, "but they call me Dodo for short. I was never called Eve either before, during, or after baptism."

"All I mean," said Jack, "is that Dorothea is not going to divide the week into week-ends, and be twenty-four hours at Meering and then twenty-four at Winston. The master of the house has spoken."

"What a bully!" said Nadine.

"Then I shan't give you a wedding-present," said Jack.

"Darling Papa Jack, you are not a bully. Let's all go down to Meering in a few days, and stop there over Christmas. Then you and Dorothea shall go to Winston, and I shall be left all alone at Meering, and you shall have your horrid shooting-parties and she shall do the flirting instead of me."

"Strictly speaking, will you be all alone at Meering?"

"Not absolutely. I have asked a few friends."

"Who is going to chaperone you all, darling?" said Dodo.

"We shall chaperone each other, as usual."

"That you and Dodo can settle," said Jack. "Good-by: don't quarrel."

"Indeed, that will be all right, Mama," said Nadine, "or I daresay Edith would come. Anyhow, we were often all together before like that in the summer."

"Yes, my dear, but it's a little different now," said Dodo. "You are engaged to Seymour, and Hugh is going to be there, too."

"Yes, but that makes it all the simpler."

Dodo got up.

"I wonder if you realize that Seymour is in love with you," she said. "In love with you like Hugh is, I mean."

"Perfectly, and he is charming about it," said Nadine. "And I practise every morning being in love with him like that. I think I am getting on very well. I dreamed about him last night. I thought he gave me a great box of jade and when I opened it, there was a rabbit inside—"

"That shows great progress," said Dodo.

"Mama, I think you are laughing at me. But what would you have? I am very fond of him, he is handsome and clever and charming. I expected to find it tiresome when he told me he was in love like that, but it is not the least so."

Memories of the man she had married when she was even younger than Nadine, came unbidden into Dodo's mind: she remembered her first husband's blind, dog-like devotion and her own ennui when he strove to express it, to communicate it to her.

"Nadine," she said, "treat it reverently, my dear. There is nothing in the world that a man can give a woman that is to be compared to that. It is better than a rabbit in a jade-box. When I was even younger than you, Papa Jack's cousin gave it me, and—and I didn't reverence it. Don't repeat my irreparable error."

"Weren't you nice to him?" asked Nadine.

"I was a brute beast to him, my darling."

"Oh, I shan't be a brute beast to Seymour," said Nadine. "Besides, I don't suppose you were. You didn't know: wasn't that all?"

Dodo wiped the mist from her eyes.

"No, that wasn't nearly all. But be tender with it, and pray, oh, my dear, pray, that you may catch that—that 'noble fever.' Who calls it that? It is so true. And Hughie? I never saw him last night."

Nadine made a little gesture of despair.

"Ah, dear Hughie," she said. "That is not very happy. That is so largely why I wanted to marry Seymour quickly, in January instead of later, so that it may be done, and Hughie will not fret any more. I hate seeing him suffer, and I can't marry him. It would not be fair: it would be cheating him, as I told him before."

"But you are not cheating Seymour?" asked Dodo.

"Not in the same way. He is not simple, like Hugh. Hugh has only one thought: Seymour has plenty of others. He has such a mind: it is subtle and swift like a woman's. Hughie has the mind of a great retriever dog, and the eyes of one. There is all the difference in the world between them. Seymour knows what he is in for, and still wants it. Hugh thinks he knows, but he doesn't. I understand Hugh so well: I know I am right. And I would have given anything to be able to be in love with him. It was a pity!"

There was something here that Dodo had not known and there was a dangerous sound about it.

"Do you mean you wish you were in love with him?" she asked.

"Oh, yes, Mama, but I'm not. I used to practice trying to be for months and months, just as I am practising for Seymour now. La, la, what a world!"

Nadine paused a moment.

"Of course I've quite stopped practising being in love with Hugh since I was engaged to Seymour," she said with an air of the most candid virtue. "That would be cheating."

Nadine got up looking like a tall white lily.

"Seymour is so good for me," she said. "He doesn't think much of my brain, you know, and I used to think a good deal of it. He doesn't say I'm stupid, but he hasn't got the smallest respect for my mind. I am not sure whether he is right, but I expect seeing so much of Hugh made me think I was clever. I wonder if being in love makes people stupid. He himself seems to me to be not quite so subtle as he was, and perhaps it's my fault. What do you think, Mama?"