But it was half an hour later before she made a move, and the drawing-rooms were growing unbearably hot with the chattering, buzzing crowd.
Suddenly there was silence, as the Honourable Misses Dymcox rose to go.
Lady Littletown was so sorry the evening had been so short, but she managed to exchange meaning looks.
“I think, yes,” she whispered; and the Honourable Philippa nodded and tightened her lips.
“Good-night, my sweet darling,” said Lady Littletown, kissing Clotilde affectionately. “Mind you come and see me soon. Good-night, dearest Marie. How well you look to-night, child!”
Then her ladyship saw through her square eyeglass, with the broad chased gold rim, Elbraham, podgy, stout and puffy, take Clotilde down to the carriage, followed by Lord Henry with Marie, and Captain Glen with the Honourable Isabella, and little Richard Millet with the Honourable Philippa; everyone but Joseph being perfectly ignorant of the fact that Mr Buddy had been imbibing largely of the stimulants plentifully handed round to the various servants outside.
But the ladies were duly packed inside, the jangling door was banged to, and Joseph, having mounted to the box beside Mr Buddy, perhaps only out of regard for his own safety, assumed the reins of government himself, and steered the fly to the Palace doors.
“Good-night, children,” said the Honourable Misses Dymcox in duet. “Take care of your dresses whatever you do!”
“Oh, Rie!” cried Clotilde, as soon as they were in their bedroom.
“Oh, Clo!” cried Marie. Then, crossing to the farther door to the cupboard in which Ruth’s bed was squeezed—“’Sleep, Ruthy?”