was a woman's amused
voice. "Even at this distance, you make me almost afraid. I do hope you
haven't been like that all night."

Tabs made his tones more smiling. "I'm sorry if I don't sound
sufficiently pleasant. But who are you?"

"Well, who do you think?" There was a snatch of laughter. "I'm Maisie; I
mean Mrs. Lockwood. You needn't tell me that you're not frowning,
because I can feel it. What's the matter?"

He pulled a wry face at himself in the opposite mirror and shrugged his
shoulders. Down the 'phone he said with excessive amiability, "Nothing.
I'm top-hole. How are you feeling?"

Her answer came back like a flash, "Vulgar and not very safe." It was
followed by a gurgle of merriment.

"I'm not sure that I understand your symptoms."

The gurgle was repeated. "You wouldn't. Lord Taborley never feels vulgar
and he's always safe. But this is one of my vulgar days, when I'm not
to be trusted. I always have one when Di has been to visit me; it's the
relapse after contact with too high standards of respectability. I'm
liable to do anything. I married Gervis and Lockwood after being with
her. I shall break out to-day if you don't come at once and stop me.
Unless--unless you don't want to stop me and would prefer the experiment
of being vulgar together."

"The prospect sounds alluring." He was trying to let her down lightly.
"But I'm afraid I have too many engagements on hand."

"Oh!" It was the _oh_ of disappointment. When she spoke again her gay
irresponsibility had vanished and a coaxing quality had come into her
voice. "I know you've only just got home from being with me--I mean
comparatively speaking. I don't want to make myself a burden to you,
but---- It's such a jolly day. Have you been up long enough to look out
of the window? I thought we could go off somewhere--to the Zoo, perhaps,
and drink lemonade all among the monkeys and the nuts. I woke up
planning it. We'd limit our spending money to five shillings like
kiddies, and do all our riding on busses. Doesn't that sound jolly?"

"Immensely," he agreed; "but I'm afraid no amount of jolliness could
tempt----"

She broke in on him. "It's the kind of thing I used to do with Adair."

The meaning of this last remark was plain; she was reminding him that if
the pair of shoes vacated by Adair were to remain vacated, he must pay
the promised price on occasions by wearing them himself. He determined
to get behind her diplomatic hints with frankness.

"I