"Not altogether wasted," sweetly: "it has at least enabled me to discover how it was you eluded the rain this evening."
"You met Mrs. Arlington before to-day?" asks Guy, who is half amused and half relieved, as he remembers how needlessly jealous he has been about his brother's attentions to Lilian. He feels also some vague doubts as to the propriety of Cyril's losing his heart to a woman of whom they know nothing; and his singular silence on the subject of having made her acquaintance is (to say the least of it) suspicious. But, as Cyril has been in a chronic state of love-making ever since he got into his first tall hat, this doubt causes him but little uneasiness.
"Yes," says Cyril, in answer to his question.
"Is she as pretty as Sir Guy says?" asks Lilian, smiling.
"Quite as pretty, if not more so. One may always depend upon Guy's taste."
"What a good thing it was you knew her! It saved you from that dreadful shower," says Lilian, good-naturedly, seeing intuitively he is vexed. "We were not so fortunate: we had to run for our lives all the way home. It is a pity, Florence, you didn't know her also, as, being so near the house, you might have thrown yourself upon her hospitality for a little while."
"I hardly think I see it in that light," drawls Florence, affectedly. "I confess I don't feel exactly ambitious about making the acquaintance of this Mrs.—er——"
"Arlington is her name," suggests Cyril, quietly. "Have you forgotten it? My dear Florence, you really should see some one about your memory: it is failing every day."
"I can still remember some things," retorts Miss Beauchamp, blandly.
By this time it has occurred to Lady Chetwoode that matters are not going exactly smoothly; whereupon she glances at Miss Beauchamp, then at Lilian, and finally carries them both off with her to the drawing-room.