a kiss at Lady Tanagra and, before Patricia knew it, she was walking with Lady Peggy and Elton in the direction of Curzon Street.
Patricia was in some awe of meeting the Duke of Gayton. Hitherto she had encountered only the smaller political fry, friends and acquaintances of Mr. Bonsor, who had always treated her as a secretary. The Duke had been in the first Coalition Ministry, but had been forced to retire on account of a serious illness.
"Look whom I've caught!" cried Lady Peggy as she bubbled into the dining-room, where some twelve or fourteen guests were in process of seating themselves at the table. "Look whom I've caught! Daddy," she addressed herself to a smart clean-shaven man, with beetling eyebrows and broad, intellectual head. "It's the captor of Peter the Hermit."
The Duke smiled and shook hands with Patricia.
"You must come and sit by me," he said in particularly sweet and well-modulated voice which seemed to give the lie to the somewhat steely and searching appearance of his eyes. "Peter is a great friend of mine."
Patricia was conscious of flushed cheeks as she took her seat next to the Duke. Later she discovered that these Sunday luncheons were always strictly informal, no order of precedence being observed. Young and old were invited grave and gay. The talk was sometimes frivolous, some-
