people, then making his way to the window holds out his hand to a girl
who is looking decidedly _ennuyée_.

'How do you do, Mr Ponsonby,' she says in a clear sweet voice, 'I'm so
glad you've come, don't you know the feeling of loneliness that comes
over one in a crowd of unknown people, and I've been here all the
afternoon feeling dreadfully cross, and have wished myself back again in
Switzerland about twenty times. It's rather a bad beginning,' she adds,
with a little laugh--

'Feeling cross, do you mean?' asks he, 'I often think it does one a
great deal of good to be cross. I wish Mrs Grundy didn't come between us
and the carpet, it would be so delightful to sprawl full length on it
and roar; I remember I used to derive a great deal of comfort in it in
the days of my youth.'

'I suppose that was a long time ago,' says she, mischievously--

'Yes, of course, almost centuries--but where's Teddy?'

'Gone out for a walk,' replied Philippa, 'isn't he a dear little boy?'

Paul Ponsonby laughs and says, 'I I think him rather the _enfant
terrible_, but I suppose women are naturally fond of children, even
taken as a whole; it does not matter much what they are like taken
singly.'

Some one has begun to sing and Philippa does not answer, but when the
song is finished, she asks the name of an old lady who is sitting on the
sofa at the farther end of the room.