Jim had been down in the park doing some service for a sick trooper; Diana explained this to Lady Elizabeth. He had promised to return in time for the dancing.
"By-the-way, my dear," Lady Elizabeth began, "if you get an opportunity, I wish you would say a judicious word in praise of Mrs. Hobart Chichester Chichester Jones. Jim, you know, sets such an extraordinary value on your opinion."
A quick feeling of dislike filled Diana—why, she could not explain.
"What do you wish me to do?" she said. "Praise her American accent or her American money?" Before she had finished the sentence she was ashamed. She really liked Sadie Jones; the sneer had been unworthy. She was about to retract her words when Jim hurriedly came up the garden-walk. As she entered the library with Sir Charles he called:
"Don't forget our waltz, Diana."
"I won't, Jim."
Lady Elizabeth sank on to the stone bench. She watched Jim, whose eyes were still following Diana's receding figure. This was the moment in which she might serve Henry. In the music-room Sadie Jones was singing:
"Tout lasse, tout passé—"
Jim began humming the tune; he crossed to Lady Elizabeth and lightly put his arm about her as he said:
"Well, Auntie mine?"