"I was telling her I could not go on being friends and she resented it," said Denise, unsteadily.
"Couldn't? Why?" It was ill-fortune for Esmé that Denise should meet two women who loved a scandal dearly.
"Oh, never mind why. Cyril has forbidden me to. It's something I could not tell; nothing to do with morals."
"Money then?" Lady Mary's eyes were glowing with curiosity. "Only money and morals nowadays in the sin catalogue."
"Oh, never mind—she's impossible," snapped Denise, and, flustered, shaken, went out.
"It's something bad. Scratch the Carteret woman's name off the list of your Bridge Tournament, Sukey. I'll drop a hint to the Rollestones, too, for their dinner and dance."
So a whisper grew. Esmé, going to a big reception that night, caught one or two frigid bows from women who had smiled the day before.
The rooms were crowded, full of notabilities. The reception was in honour of a French diplomatist and his wife; the tripping tongue was as much used in the rooms as English.
"There is one lady whom I wish to see." Dr Legrand looked at the brilliant crowd. "Milady Blakeney."
"So, Monsieur. She is close to us—passing downstairs. There—in grey-blue—with the diamond stars."