"Against my will, then!" said his lordship roguishly. He walked forward to where Cleone sat.
"Mistress Cleone, have you no smile for the humblest of your admirers?"
Cleone turned her head.
"Oh, Lord Charles! Give you good even, sir! Do you know you have not been near me the whole evening? I am monstrous hurt, I assure you!"
"Dear lady, how was I to come near you?" protested Fairfax. "Until this moment you have been surrounded."
Cleone gave a happy little laugh.
"I am sure 'tis untrue, sir! You delight in teasing me!" Her eyes wandered past him to Philip.
Fairfax drew him forward.
"Mistress Cleone, may I present one who is newly come from Paris, and is, he swears, struck dumb by your beauty? Mr. Jettan, of whom we all know some naughty tales!"
The colour drained from Cleone's cheeks. She felt faint all at once, and her fingers gripped together over her fan. For one moment she thought she must be mistaken. This was not Philip, this foppish gentleman who stood bowing so profoundly! Heavens, he was speaking! It was Philip! How could she mistake that square chin?