"Connie?" He whistled his astonishment. "The erring aunt! What's she doing in Cannes?"
"She seems to have married some awful bounder, fairly recently. A Count Somebody. And she's fearfully unhappy."
"Why doesn't she come home? Afraid of public opinion, and mother?"
"Well—can you wonder? She has no friends left, I suppose. It must be pretty awful for her. Of course you'll say she's made her own bed"
"On the contrary, I wasn't going to say anything so trite. What do you take me for? I'd trot her round like anything if she came here. It isn't everybody who's got a beautiful, notorious aunt."
"I'm rather curious to see her," admitted Judy. "Though I don't suppose we'd like her particularly. She must be rather a fool to do what she did."
"She couldn't help it," Noel defended her. "If you're a certain type—well, you just are that type, and you act accordingly. That's what she did."
"Nonsense, Noel," protested Judy. "That's a useless, easy sort of philosophy. According to that, no one can help anything they do."
"No more they can, if they're the sort of people who do that sort of thing. When they get
