His eyes were still further opened one day when a large and fashionable crowd had gathered at Lady Dalton's garden-party. Philippa was, as heretofore, the belle, looking more than usually lovely in a light gossamer dress of white and pink. She was surrounded by admirers. Lord Arleigh stood with a group of gentlemen under a great spreading beech-tree.
"How beautiful she is, that Miss L'Estrange!" said one--Sir Alfred Martindale. "I can believe in the siege of Troy when I look at her; and I think it just as well for mankind that such women are rare."
"If ever there was a human moth," observed another, "it is that unfortunate Duke of Mornton. I have seen some desperate cases in my time, but none so desperate as his."
Lord Arleigh laughed. They were all intimate friends.
"The Duke of Mornton is a great friend of mine," he said. "I can only hope that he may be saved from the ultimate fate of a moth, and that Miss L'Estrange will take pity on him."
He could not help seeing that the three gentleman looked up with an expression of utter wonder.
"Do you mean," asked Sir Alfred, "that you hope Miss L'Estrange will marry the duke?"
"I do not think she could do better," replied Lord Arleigh.
"You are the last man in London I should have expected to hear say so," said Sir Alfred, quietly.
"Am I? Pray may I ask why?"