"You were very good to Valerie," said the lady, "a little while ago. I've heard about it. And how do you like service? I always said that, if my father had put his money into railways instead of ships, I should have become a cook-housekeeper."
"It all depends," said Anthony, "on whose service you're in. I like yours very much."
Lady Touchstone laughed.
"You'd make a good equerry," she said. Then she turned to glance down the gallery. "You must meet Mrs. Pleydell," she added. "Ah, there she is. Come." They stepped to the side of a tall dark girl with a most attractive smile. "Daphne, my dear, this is Major Lyveden—from The Shrubbery. Amuse him, and he'll flatter you. You see." The tall fair man who had been sitting with Mrs. Pleydell offered Lady Touchstone his arm. She put it aside with a frown. "I'm not so old as all that, Jonah," she said. "You may take me to the hearth, if you please, but not like a grandmother."
With a crash an alcove belched music, and in a moment all the winking length of the gallery was throbbing with ragtime.
Mrs. Pleydell and Anthony trod the measure with a will.
When it was over, she led him to a tall window with a deep-cushioned seat.
"You were out," she said, "when I came the other day. To make up for it, you must come to White Ladies. It's a pretty walk, and we'll take you back in the car."
"You're very kind," said Anthony.
"If you talk like that," said Daphne, "I shall invite you for the week-end. And now would you like to talk shop, or shall I tell you about my new dress?"