Rose descended to the drawing-room as the last bell rang, and found herself bowing to half a dozen strangers—Colonel Lord Ellerton among the rest. Lord Ellerton, who was very like Lord Dundreary every way you took him, gave his arm to Kate, and Stanford, with a smile and an indescribable glance, took possession of Rose.
"Has your fairy godmother been dressing you, Rose? I never saw you look so bewildering. What is it?"
Rose shook back her curls saucily, though tingling to her finger-ends at the praise.
"My fairy godmother's goddaughter would not bewilder you much, if Cleopatra yonder were not taken possession of by that ill-looking peer of the realm. I am well enough as a dernier resort."
"How much of that speech do you mean? Are you looking beautiful to captivate the viscount?"
"I am looking beautiful because I can't help it, and I never stoop to captivate any one, Mr. Stanford—not even a viscount. By-the-by, you haven't quarrelled with Kate, have you?"
"Certainly not. Why should I?"
"Of course—why should you! She has a perfect right to walk in the grounds at midnight with any gentleman she chooses."
She said it rather bitterly. Stanford smiled provokingly.
"Chacun à son gout, you know. If Kate likes midnight rambles, she must have a cavalier, of course. When she is Mrs. Stanford I shall endeavour to break her of that habit."