So it came to pass that a decree went forth which, like the laws of the Medes and Persians, altered not. Miss Bladon, chaperoned by Lady Forsyth, would spend the winter abroad.
"A slight delicacy of chest," murmured clever Mrs. Bladon in answer to inquiries. "No, nothing serious; still, we think a winter abroad advisable, under the circumstances."
And the world took its cue very adroitly, and immediately detected a "transparency" about Nancy's pretty face and round, soft cheeks.
The first inkling of the plot reached Ted Lumsden one sunny afternoon in December when he called at the big house in Berkeley Square in his usual casual way.
"Not at home, sir," said the butler, with immovable countenance; and there was nothing for it but to leave cards and depart. But to her intimate friend, Lady Forsyth, Mrs. Bladon was rather more explicit.
"A little affaire du cœur, my dear Frances, for which there is nothing like change of air and scene. And, I beg of you, let Nancy flirt as much as she pleases. I am delighted you are really going by the Orient to Naples; a delightful voyage, and then there are so many facilities for harmless flirtation in mid-ocean."
Lady Forsyth laughed gaily.
"My good Theresa, no one could be better than I to chaperon Nancy on an ocean voyage. Till we pass Gibraltar I shall be visible to no one but my maid and the stewardess, such is the effect Neptune has upon me. And as for flirtation, your pretty daughter may do that as much as she likes. I shall be none the wiser, and you know how vague and dreamy George is."
The subject of all this commotion rebelled somewhat at this summary measure. But Mrs. Bladon quelled the revolt gently.
"Travel, dearest, will do you a world of good, and you will enjoy the complete change of scene. Besides—your health."