e values of her coloring, the faint rose
of her complexion, the daffodil gold of her flaxen hair. He had expected
to be bored by a Magdalene repentant; instead he had found himself
confronted by a challenging young Diana. His admiration went out to her
for her courage.

Having come back and resettled herself on the couch, she smiled up at
him through flickering lashes. "A nice frock, don't you think? Nothing
like a new frock after a knock-out for restoring your self-respect."

"It's a charming frock. Where's Terry?"

She clasped her small hands about her knees, leaning her head far back
so that her eyes glinted up at his languidly. Perhaps it was necessary
to do that in order to see him properly. He was still standing. And yet
her attitude served another purpose; it called attention to the firm
young lines of her bust and throat, and to the voluptuous curve of her
lips, parted in patient expectancy.

"Terry!" Her voice sounded drowsy. "I forgot. I ought to have given you
her message. She couldn't stop. She had another engagement."

"An engagement!" He was dumbfounded. "That's strange! She never said
anything---- Are you sure she didn't invent it?"

"Certain." Maisie sat up fully awake now. "Quite positive. But she had
made up her mind not to keep it till, through no fault of yours, you
gave her the chance. You don't want to believe that; it sounds as though
she had cheated. You don't know much about women, Lord Taborley. You
don't know because you refuse to learn. You're determined, in the face
of every proof to the contrary, to live and die in the faith that we're
angels." She shook her finger at him. He was amused to discover that he
was being scolded. "Angels! We're far from it. We're very much like you
men, with this difference, that we're cowards. What you need--this may
sound entirely wrong--is a good sensible woman to take you in hand, and
give you a run for your money, and teach you your own value. Why, with
your position and charm----"

"You must excuse my interrupting. Of course it all depends on what you
mean by a run for my money. But are there many good and sensible women
who are game for an adventure of that sort?"

"Heaps of them," she assured him, imitating his mock seriousness. "The
more outwardly good and sensible, the more inwardly they're willing."

"Humph!" He pretended to be pondering this gem of information. And then,
"But you have to own, Mrs. Lockwood, that Terry's not----"

She block