The Transformation of Philip Jettan

by Georgette Heyer

"Isn't it ridiculous?" said Cleone. "But doesn't he look beautiful?"

"Stand up, child, and let me see you side by side.... Yes. What audacity! Had I known, I would have attired myself in black—the old man at the ball."

"'Twould have made an excellent foil," agreed Philip. "But no matter. Cleone, you have re-arranged your roses!"

Cleone backed, warding him off.

"I cry your pardon, sir! Oh no, let me be!"

Philip came to her, and with deft fingers pulled the flowers into position.

"One of them must kiss your skin, so! To show that it is no whiter than the skin. Voilà, c'est bien!"

"Who is likely to be at the ball to-night, Philip?" asked his father.

"Tout le monde. One always goes to Madame de Sauverin's balls. It is de rigueur."

"We shall be late!" warned Cleone. "Oh, we are late now!"