“Yes,” said Jocelyn quietly—almost too quietly, “I shall manage.”
Lady Cantourne rose, and so did Jocelyn.
“You know,” she said, looking up into the girl's face, “it is a good action. That is why I ask you to do it. It is not often that one has the opportunity of doing a good action to which even one's dearest friend cannot attribute an ulterior motive. Who is that man over there?”
“That is my brother.”
“I should like to know him; but do not bring him to-morrow. We women are better alone—you understand?”
With a confidential little nod the good lady went away to attend to other affairs; possibly to carry through some more good actions of a safe nature.
It was plain to Jocelyn that Maurice was looking for some one. He had just come, and was making his way through the crowd. Presently she managed to touch his elbow.
“Oh, there you are!” he exclaimed; “I want you. Come out of this room.”
He offered her his arm, and together they made their way out of the crowded room into a smaller apartment where an amateur reciter was hovering disconsolately awaiting an audience.
“Here,” said Maurice, when they were alone, “I have just had this telegram.”