"That is very unkind of you!" she reproached him. "You tell my secret before ever I have time to say a word!"
"Eh bien! You should not have suggested that I did not want to listen to your voice."
"When I am, indeed, your aunt, I shall talk to you very seriously about flattering old women," she said severely.
Cleone clapped her hands.
"Oh, Aunt Sally! You are going to wed Mr. Jettan?"
"One of them," nodded her aunt. "I gather that this one"—she smiled up at Philip—"is going to wed Someone Else. And I do not think I would have him in any case."
"And now who is unkind?" cried Philip. "I've a mind to run away with you as you enter the church!"
Cold fear was stealing through Cleone. Mechanically she congratulated her aunt. Through a haze she heard Brenderby's voice and Jennifer's. So Philip was going to marry Someone Else? No doubt it was Ann Nutley, the designing minx!
When Philip came presently to her side she was gayer than ever, sparkling with merriment, and seemingly without a care in the world. She drew Sir Deryk into the conversation, flirting outrageously. She parried all Philip's sallies and laughed at Sir Deryk's witticisms. Then Philip went to talk to Jennifer. A pair of hungry, angry, jealous, and would-be careless blue eyes followed him and grew almost hard.
When the guests had gone Cleone felt as though her head were full of fire. Her cheeks burned, her eyes were glittering. Lady Malmerstoke looked at her.