When she found that Lady Fawn was alone, she did not betray herself, or ask for the beloved friend of the future.

"Dear, dear Lady Fawn!" she said, throwing herself into the arms and nestling herself against the bosom of the old lady, "this makes my happiness perfect." Then she retreated a little, still holding the hand she had grasped between her own, and looking up into the face of her future mother-in-law.
"When he asked me to be his wife, the first thing I thought of was whether you would come to me at once." Her voice as she thus spoke was perfect.

Her manner was almost perfect.

Perhaps there was a little too much of gesture, too much gliding motion, too violent an appeal with the eyes, too close a pressure of the hand.

No suspicion, however, of all this would have touched Lady Fawn had she come to Mount Street without calling in Warwick Square on the way.