This was about a week or so after Aura's return, and he had intended to call on her that very afternoon. Now he refrained.
"I am so sorry we had to give you such short notice," said Ted, whom he met in the street next day, "but the Hirschs were coming down unexpectedly and it had to be hurried. I hope you can come."
"Oh! I am coming all right," said Ned a trifle surlily. "I hope it won't be too much for Aura."
Ted looked at him with immense surprise. "My dear fellow! Aura is as well as she can be, and awfully interested in it. Well! I'm glad you can come. You'll like Miss Hirsch, she's charming, so fresh and gay."
It was a real parlourmaid who announced Lord Blackborough this time, and he saw a furtive green-grocer in the background; otherwise the house seemed to him much the same, only larger, more pretentious. The drawing-room was distinctly more--what was the word? chaste. Yes! distinctly more chaste. It was white and gold, and was that Aura in a pink satin dress--ye heavens above! in pink satin! She did not look ill, but as their eyes met he was conscious of a distinct shock. There was something wanting in them, the best part of her was not there.
Where was it?
The question absorbed him even while he was being presented to Miss Hirsch, a jolly, handsome, rather stout girl, also--as the fates would have it--in pink satin. But she was literally ablaze with diamonds.
"Aha! my old friend Blackborough!" laughed Mr. Hirsch explosively, "this is good sight for sore eyes. Make me your compliments for my daughter, sir."
"I prefer to make them to Miss Hirsch herself," replied Ned gallantly, and then they went in to dinner.
It was an excellent repast. Ted had evidently pursued the only course consonant with success. He had ordered it direct from Benoist's and kept the minions of the great caterer out of evidence. Iced mellon gave place to consommé biscuit, truite a l'aurore to filets financieres, poularde casserole to something else, until at the end the conversation became interspersed with cigarettes and coffee.