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I shan't mention that."
    “I should hope not!"
    “It is not his fault. But what I shall mention is the shameless way Lady Caroline Lamb haunts him."
    “That is not entirely her fault, for he was used to sit in her pocket a while back, and it must be a blow to be losing him."
    “Yes, he must be a sore temptation, but temptation was made to be overcome. Hannah More says..."
    “Resist the temptation to quote Hannah More at me, love,” Sara said. “Nothing is more likely to put a gentleman off than to be forever preaching at him. And while you're about it, you might overcome the temptation to wear that pink gown as well. Have Bickles hem up that new golden dress, so that you won't look such a quiz at Almack's."
    “Lord, Sara, you don't still hope to get me off your hands, do you?” Ella asked with an ironic laugh. “I am stuck on you and Sir Herbert like a barnacle.” She looked worried when her aunt frowned at this instead of smiling, as she had hoped.
    “Oh, do you hate having me? I shan't mind going back home to mama. Truly I shan't. It is only Miss Prattle I shall regret, for she is fun, but I do plan to write my novel you know and can get on with it when I go back home."
    “Nonsense! I am thinking of you. I love having you, and so do Herbert and the children. But it is unnatural the way you never make the least push to form an attachment."
    “I have tried, Sara, but the older gentlemen are too wise to bother with me, and the younger are too stupid for me to bother with them, so what's to do?"
    “Someone in between—a gentleman no longer young—say thirty or so."
    “The good ones get snapped up young, and there aren't many gentlemen at the magic age of thirty or thereabouts."
    That evening Lady Sara and her charge entered Almack's and made their bows to the Patronesses before joining the throng hovering at the edge of the dance floor. Both ladies had the same prey in mind—Lord Clare—but upon discovering that he was not present, the elder did not appear disappointed. She shepherded Ella to the far corner of the room, for no reason apparent to her niece. No one was there but Bippy Tredwell, standing alone in a pose denoting an advanced state of boredom. One could not but wonder why he had come. There were more gentlemen than ladies present, so naturally Tredwell was without a partner. With a greeting, Lady Sara sallied forth and engaged him in conversation. When the music began, he asked Ella to stand up with him. Ella had feared this very contingency, and felt she might have done better for herself from all the surfeit of black jackets standing about, but Sara was smiling quite contentedly. With a shortage of girls, Ella had a partner for every dance. It was while she danced with Mr. Peters that Lady Sara once again accosted Bippy Tredwell.
    “Ah, Mr. Tredwell,” she began in a flattering tone. “What a pleasure it was to see you dancing with my niece. I must confess I had not observed how smoothly you executed the new waltz, till Ella said to me there was no one who did it so well as you."
    Bippy's little blue eyes popped in surprise and pleasure. He was a stoutish gentleman, not conspicuously light of foot. Had she congratulated him on his fine baritone voice, he would have thought it no more than his due. Quite a fine voice. Everyone said so. But to receive a gratuitous word of praise on his dancing was a novel experience.
    “Did she say so, by Jove?” he asked contentedly. It was vigorously confirmed.
    “A bit of a dab at it, if I do say so myself,” he admitted modestly. “Took me the devil of a time to get on to it, but I've got it down pretty pat now. Not easy to whirl around backwards, and count one, two, three at the same time. Takes a bit of getting used to."
    “It's a wonder how you've mastered it so completely. I thought when Ella first said so it was her partiality speaking, for you must know she is loud in her praise of Mr. Tredwell. His very fine voice, his wit, his seat on a