That evening before joining her guests at the usual eight o'clock repast, Maryllia told Cicely Bourne of the disagreeable 'surprise' which had been treacherously contrived for her at Sir Morton Pippitt's tea-party by the unexpected presence of the loathed wooer whom she sought to avoid.

"Margaret Bludlip Courtenay must certainly have known he was to be there,"--she said--"And I think, from her look, Eva Beaulyon knew also. But neither of them gave me a hint. And now if I were to say anything they would only laugh and declare that they 'thought it would be fun.' There's no getting any help or sympathy out of such people. I'm sorry!--but--as usual--I must stand alone."

"I daresay every one of them was in the plot--men and all, if the truth were told!"--burst out Cicely, indignantly--"And Mrs. Fred is at the bottom of the mischief. It's a shame! Your aunt is a brute, Maryllia! I would say so to her face if she were here! She's a calculating, selfish, title-grubbing brute! There! What are you going to do?"

"Nothing!"--and Maryllia looked thoughtfully out of the window at the flaming after-glow of the sunset, bathing all the landscape in a flood of coppery crimson--"I shall just go on as usual. When I go down to dinner presently, I shall not speak of to-day's incident at all. Eva Beaulyon and Margaret Courtenay will expect me to speak of it--and they will be disappointed. If they allude to it, I shall change the subject. And I shall invite Roxmouth and his tame pussy, Mr. Marius Longford, to dinner next week, as guests of Sir Morton Pippitt,--that's all."