"Miss Thurwell," she said good-naturedly, "I don't know when I shall forgive you for monopolizing Mr. Maddison in this shameful manner. Why, there were quite a crowd of people came this afternoon only to catch a glimpse of him, and there was nothing to be seen but his boots behind that screen. I am in terrible disgrace, I can assure you!"
"The fault was mine," he interposed, "altogether mine. In an ungovernable fit of shyness, I took refuge with the only person except yourself, Lady Meltoun, whom I was fortunate enough to know. I simply refused to come away."
"Well, I suppose I must forgive you, or you won't come again," Lady Meltoun said. "But now you are here, you must really stop and see Edgar. When every one has gone we will go up to the nursery, and in the meantime you may make yourself useful by taking Lady Thurwell out to her carriage. I'm afraid there's rather a crush."
So they all three went out together, and while they stood waiting for Lady Thurwell's victoria, he managed to say a word to her alone.
"I will come and see you," he whispered.
She looked up at him a little shyly, for in handing her into the carriage he had assumed a certain air of proprietorship which had brought a faint color into her cheeks.
"Come soon," she whispered. "Good-bye!"
She nodded brightly, and Lady Thurwell smiled as the horses started forward, and the carriage drove away.
"I wonder who Mr. Maddison really is?" she said, half to herself, just as they reached home.
Lady Thurwell shrugged her shoulders.