in his voice, and Diana
countered, with another question.

"Why? Do you think I ought not to be friends with her?"

"I? Oh, I don't think about it at all"--with a little half-foreign
shrug of his shoulders. "Miss Quentin's choice of friends is no
concern of mine."

Unbidden, tears leaped into Diana's eyes at the cold satirical tones.
Surely, surely he had hurt her enough, for one day! Without a word she
turned and made her way blindly out of the room and down the stairs.
In the hall she almost ran into Jerry's arms.

"Oh, are you going?" he asked, in tones of disappointment.

"Yea, I'm afraid I mustn't wait any longer for Adrienne. I have some
work to do when I get back."

Her voice shook a little, and Jerry, giving her a swift glance, could
see that her lashes were wet and her eyes misty with tears.

"The brute!" he ejaculated mentally. "What's he done to her?"

Aloud he merely said:--

"Will you have a taxi?"

She nodded, and hailing one that chanced to be passing, he put her
carefully into it.

"And--and I say," he said anxiously. "You didn't mind my talking to
you this afternoon, did you, Miss Quentin? I made 'rather free,' as
the servants say."

"No, of course I didn't mind," she replied warmly, her spirits rising a
little. He was such a nice boy--the sort of boy one could be pals
with. "You must come and see me at Brutton Square. Come to tea one
day, will you?"

"_Won't I_?" he said heartily. "Good-bye." And the taxi swept away
down the street.

Jerry returned to the drawing-room to find Errington staring moodily
out of the window.

"I say, Max," he said, affectionately linking his arm in that of the
older man. "What had you been saying to upset that dear little person?"

"I?"

"Yes. She was--crying."

Jerry felt the arm against his own twitch, and continued relentlessly:--

"I believe you've been snubbing her. You know, old man, you have a
sort of horribly lordly, touch-me-not air about you when you choose.
But I don't see why you should choose with Miss Quentin. She's such an
awfully good sort."

"Yes," agreed Errington. "Miss Quentin is quite charming."

"She thinks you don't like her," pursued Jerry, after a moment's pause.

"I--not like Miss Quentin? Absurd!"

"Well, that's what she thinks, anyway," persisted Jerry. "She told me
so, and she seemed really sorry about it. She believes you don't want
to be friends with her."

"Miss Quentin's friendship would