Sir Maurice felt Jennifer's start of surprise, and saw her stare past him as though she saw at least three ghosts.
Philip went to his hostess and dropped on one knee to kiss her hand. He was dressed in puce and old gold. Jennifer thought she had never seen anything so gorgeous, or so astonishing. She did not believe for a moment that it was her old playfellow, Philip.
"Madame, I am late!" said Philip. "I ask a thousand pardons."
"And you are sure you'll receive them!" chuckled her ladyship. "I'd give them, but that it would fatigue me so. Where's that ode? Don't tell me you've forgotten it!"
"Forgotten it! Never! It is a very beautiful ode, too, in my best style. Le voici!" He handed her a rolled parchment sheet, tied with mauve ribbons, and with violets cunningly inserted.
"You delightful boy!" cried her ladyship, inspecting it. "Violets! How did you know they were my favourite flowers?"
"I knew instinctively," answered Philip solemnly.
"Of course you did! But how charming of you! I declare I daren't untie it till the violets are dead. Look, Tom, is it not pretty? And isn't Philip sweet to write me an ode?"
"I am looking," said Tom gloomily. "Ye rascal, how dare you try to steal my lady's heart away from me?"
"I should be more than human an I did not!" replied Philip promptly.