'What a great many useless things you would get,' says Dalrymple.

'Really! but why?'

'I did not mean you in particular,' he protests. 'I assure you I didn't;
but there are a great many useless things in the shops, which I suppose
people buy. What is the matter, Miss Seaton? For Philippa has risen
hastily with a little scream. 'There's something under my chair, I felt
it move,' she says, woman-like raising her skirt.

Dalrymple bends down, kneel he could not in his best evening trousers,
'I don't see anything,' he says, peering about and nearly choking for
his collar is high and somewhat tight. _Il faut souffrir pour être
beau.'_

'Oh, but you must,' persists Lippa. 'I felt it move.'

'Wait a second,' says he, producing a match, and proceeding to light it
on the sole of his pump; they are all alone in this part of the garden,
and nobody is watching them, the match will not ignite at first and then
they both bend down at once nearly upsetting each other, and behold
calmly blinking at them a large black cat. This is too much for Jimmy
who gives way to suppressed laughter, the match goes out, and Miss
Seaton though inwardly convulsed thinks proper to assume an air of
dignity. 'I think I had better go back to the ball-room,' says she.

Jimmy vaguely feeling he has done something he ought not to, says; 'I-er
beg your pardon, I'm awfully sorry--'