dressing-gown, and she had hastily tied a white scarf round her loosened
hair. In the dim light of a couple of candles her beauty made an even
more exciting impression on the woman watching her than it had done in
the lamp-lit drawing-room.

"It's war!" she said firmly, "war between Buntingford and me. I'm sorry
it's come so soon--the very first evening!--and I know it'll be beastly
for you--but I can't help it. I _won't_ be dictated to. If I'm not
twenty-one, I'm old enough to choose my own friends; and if Buntingford
chooses to boycott them, he must take the consequences." And throwing her
white arms above her head, her eyes looked out from the frame of
them--eyes sparkling with pride and will.

Mrs. Friend begged for an explanation.

"Well, I happened to tell him that I had invited Lord Donald for Sunday.
I'll tell you about Lord Donald presently--and he simply--behaved like a
brute! He said he was sorry I hadn't told him, that he couldn't have
Donald here, and would telegraph to him to-morrow--not to come. Just
think of that! So then I said--why? And he said he didn't approve of
Donald--or some nonsense of that sort. I was quite calm. I reminded him
he had promised to let me invite my friends--that was part of the
bargain. Yes--he said--but within limits--and Donald was the limit. That
made me savage--so I upped and said, very well, if I couldn't see Donald
here, I should see him somewhere else--and he wouldn't prevent me. I
wasn't going to desert my friends for a lot of silly tales. So then he
said I didn't know what I was talking about, and turned his back on me.
He kept his temper provokingly--and I lost mine--which was idiotic of me.
But I mean to be even with him--somehow. And as for Donald, I shall go up
to town and lunch with him at the Ritz next week!"