her, mocking
her. He appeared an entirely different person from the man who had
been so careful of her welfare during the eventful journey they had
made together.

She lifted her head a little defiantly.

"No," she said, with significance. "I certainly don't understand--some
people."

"Perhaps it's just as well," retorted Errington, unmoved.

Jerry, sensing electricity in the atmosphere, looked troubled and
uncomfortable. He hadn't the faintest idea what they were talking
about, but it was perfectly clear to him that everything was not quite
as it should be between his beloved Max and this new friend, this jolly
little girl with the wonderful eyes--just like a pair of stars, by
Jove!--and, if rumour spoke truly, the even more wonderful voice.

Bashfully murmuring something about "going down to see if Miss de
Gervais had come in yet," he bolted out of the room, leaving Max and
Diana alone together.

Suddenly she turned and faced him.

"Why--why are you always so unkind to me?" she burst out, a little
breathlessly.

He lifted his brows.

"I? . . . My dear Miss Quentin, I have no right to be either kind--or
unkind--to you. That is surely the privilege of friends. And you
showed me quite clearly, down at Crailing, that you did not intend to
admit me to your friendship."

"I didn't," she exclaimed, and rushed on desperately. "Was it likely
that I should feel anything but gratitude--and liking for any one who
had done as much for me as you had?"

"You forget," he said quietly. "Afterwards--I transgressed. And you
let me see that the transgression had wiped out my meritorious
deeds--completely. It was quite the best thing that could happen," he
added hastily, as she would have spoken. "I had no right, less right
than any man on earth, to do--what I did. I abide by your decision."

The last words came slowly, meaningly. He was politely telling her
that any overtures of friendship would be rejected.

Diana's pride lay in the dust, but she was determined he should not
knew it. With her head held high, she said stiffly:--

"I don't think I'll wait any longer for Adrienne. Will you tell her,
please, that I've gone back to Brutton Square?"

"Brutton Square?" he repeated swiftly. "Do you live there?"

"Yes. Have you any objection?"

He disregarded her mocking query and continued:--

"A Miss Lermontof lives there. Is she, by any chance, a friend of
yours?" There seemed a hint of disapproval