"Nonsense, Harold," cried Millicent Splay in vexation. She turned towards the stairs, and she gave a little gasp. A woman was standing on the second step from the floor. But it was not Joan, it was Stella Croyle.
"I thought you had such a bad headache," said Lady Splay, after a perceptible pause.
"It's better now, thank you," said Stella, and coming down the remaining steps, she advanced towards Harry.
"How do you do, Colonel Luttrell?" she asked.
For a moment he was taken aback. Then with the blood mounting in his face, he took a step forwards and shook hands with her easily.
"So you know one another!" said Lady Splay.
"We have known each other for a long while," returned Stella Croyle.
So that was why Stella Croyle had proposed herself for the week! Lady Splay had been a little surprised; so persistently had Stella avoided anything in the shape of a party. But this time Stella had definitely wished to come, and Millie Splay in her loyalty had not hesitated to welcome her. But she had been a little curious. Stella's visit, indeed, was the third, though the least, of her preoccupations. The Ball on the Thursday of next week at the Willoughby's! Well, Stella was never lacking in tact. That would arrange itself. But as Millie Splay looked at her, recognised her beauty, her eager advance to Harry Luttrell, and Harry Luttrell's embarrassment, she said to herself, for quite other reasons:
"If I had guessed why she wanted to come, nothing would have persuaded me to have her."
Millie Splay had more reason to repeat the words before the week was out.