"That I understand is what we're giving the party for. Intriguer!"
Rose threw him a cool glance.
"You may continue to play Gallio if you like. I am now a partisan."
"So I perceive. And you hope to turn Norham into one."
Rose nodded. Mr. Norham was the Home Secretary, the most important member in a Cabinet headed by a Prime Minister in rapidly failing health; to whose place, either by death or retirement it was generally expected that Edward Norham would succeed.
"Well, darling, I shall watch your manoeuvres with interest," said Flaxman, rising and gathering up his letters—"and, longo intervallo, I shall humbly do my best to assist them. Are Catherine and Mary coming?"
"Mary certainly—and, I think, Catharine. The Fox-Wiltons of course, and that mad creature Hester, who goes to Paris in a few days—and Alice Puttenham. How that sister of hers bullies her—horrid little woman! And Mr. Barron!"—Flaxman made an exclamation—"and the deaf daughter—and the nice elder son—and the unpresentable younger one—in fact the whole menagerie."
Flaxman shrugged his shoulders.
"A few others, I hope, to act as buffers."
"Heaps!" said Rose. "I have asked half the neighbourhood—our first big party. And as for the weekenders, you chose them yourself." She ran through the list, while Flaxman vainly protested that he had never in their joint existence been allowed to do anything of the kind. "But to-night you're not to take any notice of them at all. Neighbours first! Plenty of time for you to amuse yourself to-morrow. What time does Mr. Barron come?"