Chapter XVII THE CHANGE IN “ALCIDE” “By-the-bye,” his neighbour asked him languidly, “who is our hostess?” “Usually known, I believe, as Lady Ferringhall,” Ennison answered, “unless I have mixed up my engagement list and come to the wrong house. Ennison stood by her side. There it was—to be borrowed. A deadlock. She felt like a dried-up old woman. You wore a blue dress with your hair unbound, and never had I seen a maid so glorious with eyes so blue or a smile so bright. I don’t half disagree with you, Vee, really; only thing is, I don’t see how you’re going to pull it off. Burn your palette and your easel. She was beauty, the key of magic, the teacher of spells, the predictor of wars, and the gate of the future. ’ ‘You were quite as bad to me as I was to you,’ Gerald protested mildly, sitting down beside her. ” The change in Lady Ferringhall’s manner was subtle but unmistakable. You’re mine. ‘Gabbling and muttering in a foreign tongue, that’s what I heard, sir,’ had declared the gap-toothed ancient, when he told them of the initial foray he had made, sneaking around the house in the dark.
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