And the speaker threw back his fair, grizzled head, regarding the lights, the house, the guests, with the air of a sensitive dog on a familiar scent.
"Ah, you're fresh home," said Delafield, laughing. "But let's just try to keep you here--"
"My dear fellow, who is that at the top of the stairs?"
The old diplomat paused. In front of the pair some half a dozen guests were ascending, and as many coming down. At the top stood a tall lady in black, receiving and dismissing.
Delafield looked up.
"That is Mademoiselle Le Breton," he said, quietly.
"She receives?"
"She distributes the guests. Lady Henry generally establishes herself in the back drawing-room. It doesn't do for her to see too many people at once. Mademoiselle arranges it."
"Lady Henry must indeed be a good deal more helpless that I remember her," murmured Sir Wilfrid, in some astonishment.
"She is, physically. Oh, no doubt of it! Otherwise you won't find much change. Shall I introduce you?"