Lord Deppingham's eyes glowed with pride in his charming wife as he followed with the heartsick Drusilla.

Britt sauntered slowly out and down the stairway, glancing back but once at the undone Saunders.
"I would have won them over if Britt had not interfered," almost wailed little Mr.Saunders, his eyes glazed with mortification.
"I'm getting to hate that man," said Miss Pelham loyally.

"And the others! They give me a pain! Don't mind them, Tommy, dear." Lady Deppingham and Browne came upon the Princess quite unexpectedly.
She was in the upper gallery, leaning against the stone rail and gazing steadily through the field glasses in the direction of the bungalow.
They held back and watched her, unseen.

The soft light of early evening fell upon her figure as she stood erect, lithe and sinuous in the open space between the ivy-clad posts; her face and hands were soft tinted by the glow from the reflecting east, her hair was like a bronze relief against the dark green of the mountain.

She was dressed in white--a modish gown of rich Irish lace.