"Well, what did I tell you?" demanded Jerry, triumphantly, of the
little party of friends who gathered together for tea in Diana's
sitting-room, when at length the great event of the afternoon was over.
"What did I tell you? . . . I said Diana would just romp past the
post--all the others nowhere. And behold! It came to pass."
"It's a good thing Madame Louvigny and Kirolski can't hear you,"
observed Joan sagely. "They've probably got quite nice natures, but
you'd strain the forbearance of an early Christian martyr, Jerry.
Besides, you needn't be so fulsome to Diana; it isn't good for her."
Jerry retorted with spirit, and the two drifted into a pleasant little
wrangle--the kind of sparring match by which youths and maidens
frequently endeavour to convince themselves, and the world at large, of
the purely Platonic nature of their sentiments.
Bunty, who had rejoiced in her promised seat in the front row at the
concert, was hurrying to and fro, a maid-servant in attendance,
bringing in tea, while Mrs. Lawrence, who had also been the recipient
of a complimentary ticket, looked in for a few minutes to felicitate
the heroine of the day.
She mentally patted herself on the back for the discernment she had
evinced in making certain relaxations of her stringent rules in favour
of this particular boarder. It was quite evident that before long Miss
Quentin would be distinctly a "personage," shedding a delectable
effulgence upon her immediate surroundings, and Mrs.
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