The third gentleman who appeared to have claims on Miss Grantham was the man who had so cheerfully hailed him upon his first approaching the table. He seemed to be on intimate terms with the lady, but was resented neither by Adrian nor by Lord Ormskirk. He was a pleasant fellow, with smiling eyes, and an engaging address. Mr Ravenscar would have been much surprised to have found that he was not a soldier of fortune. Miss Grantham called him Lucius; he called Miss Grantham his darling, with an easy familiarity that indicated long friendship, or some fonder relationship. Miss Grantham, thought Mr Ravenscar, was altogether too free with her favours.

At one in the morning she relinquished the E.O. table, calling upon Mr Lucius Kennet to take her place at it. “Ah, I’m tired, and want my supper!” she said. “My Lord, will you take me down to supper? I swear I’m famished!”

“With the greatest pleasure on earth, my dear,” said Lord Ormskirk, in his weary voice.

“Oh course I will take you down, Deb!” said Lord Mablethorpe, offering his arm.

She stood between them, laughing dismay in her eyes, looking from one to the other. “Oh, I am overwhelmed, but indeed, indeed—”

Ravenscar walked forward. “Madam, you stand between two fires! Allow me to rescue you! May I have the honour of taking you down to supper?”

“Snatching a brand from the burning?” she said, in a rallying tone. “My lords!” She swept them a deep curtsey. “Pray forgive me!”

“Mr Ravenscar wins all,” said Sir James Filey, with one of his mocking smiles. “It is the way of the world!”