eyes.

The "old guard" were _in excelsis_ that night; the Edwardians were in
their glory on the top of the world. Probably more than one of them
thought, "They can say what they like but we can cut out the girls when
we choose." Their savoir faire was immense. Many of them still possessed
an amazing amount of the joie de vivre. And some of them were thoroughly
sensible women, saved from absurdity by the blessed sense of humour.

But Lady Sellingworth was by this time desperately in love with Louis
de Rocheouart, and her sense of humour was in abeyance that night. In
consequence, she was the victim of a mortification which she was never
to forget as long as she lived.

Towards the end of the evening she happened to be standing with Sir
Seymour Portman near the entrance to the ballroom, and overheard a scrap
of conversation between two people just behind them.

A girl's light voice said:

"Have you heard the name Cora Wellingborough has given to this ball?"

(The Duchess of Wellingborough was one of the hostesses.)

"No," replied a voice, which Lady Sellingworth recognized as the voice
of young Rocheouart. "What is it?"

"She calls it 'The Hags' Hop'! Isn't it delicious of her? It will be
all over London to-morrow. The name will stick. In the annuals of London
festivities to-night will always be remembered as the night of the