Sir Antony talked to me.  He asked me if I was tired, or something banal like that; his voice was distraite.  I answered him gayly, and then we changed seats, and he had a conversation with grandmamma.  I do not know what they spoke about, as Lady Tilchester and I went to the other end of the room, but his manner looked so gallant, and I knew by grandmamma’s face that she was saying the witty, sententious things that she does to the Marquis.  A faint pink flush came into her cheeks which made her look such a very beautiful old lady.

Lady Tilchester talked to me about the garden and the ball the night before, and at last asked me when I was going to be married.

It seemed to bring me back with a rush to earth from some enchanted world which contained no Augustus.

“I—­don’t know,” I faltered, and then, ashamed of my silly voice, said, firmly, “Grandmamma has not arranged the date yet—­”

“I hope you will be very happy,” said Lady Tilchester, and she would not look at me, which was kind of her.

“Thank you,” I said.  “Grandmamma is no longer young, and she will feel relieved to know I have a home of my own.”

“It is delightful to think we shall have you for a neighbor.  Harley is only fifteen miles from here.  I wonder if Mrs. Athelstan would let you come and stay a few days with me?”

“Oh!  I should love to,” I said.

However, grandmamma, when the subject was broached to her presently, firmly declined.

“A month ago I should have accepted with much pleasure,” she said, “but circumstances and my health do not now permit me to part even for a short time with Ambrosine.”

She looked at Lady Tilchester and Lady Tilchester looked back at her, and although nothing more was said about the matter, I am sure they understood each other.

Sir Antony came and sat by me in the window-sill.  I was wearing my chatelaine and he noticed it.

“I am a blind idiot!” he exclaimed.  “Of course you are the kind lady who lent me the knife, which I broke, and then stole in a brutal way.”

“I saw you did not recognize me the other night.”

“I could only see out of one eye, you know, that day in the lane—­that must be my excuse.”

I said nothing.

“I am not going to give back the knife.”

“Then it is real stealing—­and it spoils my chatelaine,” I said, holding up the empty chain.

“I will give you another in its place, but I must keep this one.”

“That is silly—­why?”

“It is very agreeable to do silly things sometimes—­for instance, I should like—­”

What he would have liked I never knew, for at that moment we both caught sight of Augustus getting out of his station brougham at our gate.

“Here comes your bear,” said Sir Antony, but he did not attempt to stir from his seat.  We could see Augustus walk up the path and turn the handle of the front door without ringing.  In this impertinence I am glad to say he was checked, as Hephzibah had fortunately let the bolt slip after showing in Lady Tilchester.  He rang an angry peal.  Grandmamma frowned.