"Why, is it still a pose, Aunt?"
"Oh, now it's a habit. So much less fatiguing, my dear. But to return to what I was saying, you—"
"Don't—don't let's talk—about me," begged Cleone unsteadily. "I—hardly know what possesses me, but—Oh, there's the bell!"
Lady Malmerstoke dragged herself up.
"Already? Clo, is my wig on straight? Drat the men, I've not had a wink of sleep the whole afternoon. A nice hag I shall look to-night. Which of them is it, my dear?"
Cleone was peering out of the window.
"'Tis James and Jennifer, Aunt." She came back into the room. "It seems an age since I saw Jenny."
Lady Malmerstoke studied herself in her little mirror.
"Is she the child who lives down in the country?"
"Yes—Jenny Winton, such a sweet little thing. She has come up with Mr. Winton for a few weeks. I am so glad she managed to induce him to bring her!" Cleone ran forward as the two Wintons were ushered in. "Jenny, dear!"