"C'est merveilleux!" he breathed.
The Marquis beamed, but he shook his head.
"In time, yes. At present, a thousand times no! C'est gauche, c'est impossible!"
Unwontedly humble, Philip begged to be made less gauche.
"It is my intention," said the Marquis. "A month or so and I shall be proud of my pupil."
"Faith, I'm proud of ye now!" cried Tom. "Why, lad, you'll be more modish than ever Maurice was!"
Philip flushed beneath his powder. A ruby on his finger caught his eye. He regarded it for a moment, frowning, then he took it off.
"Oh?" queried the Marquis. "Why?"
"I don't like it."
"You don't like it? Why not?"