Lydia ’s own lashes bore witness to her skill. Nature had made them as red as her hair, but she had no idea of sitting down under anything of that sort. Her grey-green eyes now sparkled jewel-bright between lashes as dark as Phyllida’s own. For the rest, she was a little bit of a thing who always managed to look as if she were about to take part in a mannequin parade. The latest clothes, the latest shoes, the latest way of doing the hair, the latest and most startling lipstick and nail-polish-these were Lydia. She made talk wherever she went. Men dangled and pursued, but never quite caught up with her. Dick Paradine proposed to her every time she came to stay. She fluttered up to him now and deftly evaded a kiss.

“Hullo, Dicky! Hullo, Phyl! I believe you’ve grown. I must get higher heels on my shoes. You’re such an immense family. Look at Mr. Paradine, and Aunt Grace, and Frank, and you-and Mark. Miles up in the air, all of you-so remote!”

Dicky had an arm about her.

“Not me, darling. You mayn’t have noticed it, but I’m quite nice and near.”

She leaned back, laughing up at him.

“I never do notice you-that’s why I love you so passionately.” Then, with a turn of her head which brought it against Dicky’s shoulder, she was looking up at Mark.

“Happy New Year, darling.”

He made no answer, only turned and pushed at the fire with his foot. A log crashed in, and a flurry of sparks went up.

“Snubbed!” said Lydia in a mournful tone. Then she disengaged herself and ran across to Miss Paradine. “Will I do, Aunt Grace? Or is he going to be shocked as usual? I wanted to come in my new brocade trousers-gorgeous furniture stuff and no coupons-but Frank lectured me and Irene lectured me till my spirit was broken, so here I am all jeune fille in a skirt.”