"Nothing," she said.
"But you must mean something." He threw out his hands.
"Are you aware that you've been flirting disgracefully with Lizzle Durning?"
"I?" said Paul, clapping a hand to his shirt-front.
"You."
He smiled his sunny smile into the clear, direct eyes of his dearest lady—all the more dear because of the premature white of her hair. "I would flirt to-night with Xantippe, or Kerenhappuch, or Queen Victoria," said he.
"Why?"
He laughed, and although none of the standing and lingering company had overheard them, he gently led her to the curtained embrasure of the drawing-room window.
"This is perhaps the biggest day of my life. I've not had an opportunity of telling you. This morning Frank Ayres offered me a seat in Parliament."
"I'm glad," said Ursula Winwood; but her eyes hardened. "And so—Lizzie Durning—"