“I must judge for myself,” said my lady, turning to me with a smile.  “He’s given you a terrible——­”

The sentence was never finished, for Berry turned to look at somebody, and Maisie noticed his back for the first time.  Her involuntary cry was succeeded by a peal of laughter which attracted the attention of every one within earshot, and in a moment my brother-in-law found himself the object of much interested amusement, which the majority of onlookers made no attempt to conceal.

My lady fled to her cloakroom.  Hastily I escorted Maisie, still helpless with laughter, to her car.

I returned to find Berry entertaining a large audience of complete strangers in the vestibule with a fantastic account of his experiences at Stanhope Gate.  Concealing myself behind a pillar, I awaited Lady Elizabeth’s return.

“Yes,” said Berry.  “Betrayed by my accomplices, I found myself, as it were, a shred of flotsam adrift in the darkling streets.  Several people thought I was the Marble Arch, and left me on the left.  Others, more discerning, conjured me to pull in to the kerb.  Removing from my north instep the hoof which, upon examination, I found to be attached to a large mammal, I started to wade south-west and by south, hoping against hope and steering by the Milky Way.  Happily I had my ration-card, and I derived great comfort from its pregnant directions, which I read from time to time by the smell of the red-hot lamp which I was bearing....”

Here my lady appeared, and I led her into the corridor and on to the floor.

As she had promised, she was wearing a silver frock.  One white shoulder was left bare, and a heavy fringe, that swayed evenly with her every movement, made the sum line of her dress still more graceful.  Silvery stockings covered her gleaming ankles, and she was shod with silver shoes.

For a little we spoke of Berry, and she told me how he had boarded her car and respectfully begged her compassion.  Then I spoke of the bitter wind which had blown us about so inconsiderately, before the fog had come to lay upon us stripes of another kind.

“I lost my hat one day,” I added casually.

At that she jumped in my arms as if I had stabbed her, but I took no notice, and we danced on.

Deliberately I recounted my loss and my pursuit, only omitting my encounter with her chauffeur.

“I happen to know,” I concluded, “that the lady of the limousine is here to-night.  Before the ball is over I shall have danced with her.”

“But you’ve never seen her,” she protested.

“I know her voice.”

She laughed musically.

“Aren’t you a bit of an optimist?” she queried.

“I don’t think so.  And she’s just sweet.”

“But if you don’t know her name, how can you hope——­”

“Her name,” I said, “is Dot.”

The hand upon my shoulder shook slightly.

We danced on.