thing,
Gladys, yet not one word did I say about Lord Lindfield. I have a
perfectly good reason as to why I did not in my own mind, but it doesn't
happen to be the right one. I say to myself that I wish to tell her
nothing until there is really something to tell. But that isn't the real
reason. Do you generally have a good reason _and_ a real reason? I
always do. Then you can use either and satisfy anybody. I think I must
be a hypocrite. The real reason is that I think she would see that I
wasn't in love with him. Well, I'm not--but I'm going to be. I shall
tell her then."

"Is he going to be at the Streathams to-night?" asked Gladys.

"Yes, of course. That's why I am going. If he wasn't, I should say I was
ill, and stop at home with Aunt Jeannie. Darling, if you look shocked I
shall be sick! Every girl wants to see the man she intends to marry as
often as possible. But most girls don't say so; that is why, as a sex,
we are such unutterable humbugs. Men are so much more sensible. They
say, 'She's a ripper!' or 'a clipper!'--or whatever is the word in
use--'and I shall go and call on that cad of a woman with whom she is
dining on Thursday next, in order to be asked to dinner.' That's
sensible; there's no nonsense about it. But girls pretend it happens by
accident. As if anything happened by accident! They plot and scheme in
just the same way, only they aren't frank about it. We want to marry
certain men just as much as they want to marry us, and yet we pretend
they do it all. You pretend. You try to look shocked because I don't.
Here we are! Oh, do get out! No, you needn't hurry. He's coming up the
pavement now. If you get out quick he won't see us--me, I mean!"

This slogging diplomacy was successful. Lord Lindfield got opposite the
house exactly as Daisy stepped out of the cab.

"Hullo, Miss Daisy!" he said. "What stupendous luck! Thought I was going
into the wilderness to-night like the children of Israel--and here you
are! Jove!"

He had taken off his hat, and stood bare-headed as he handed her out
of the cab, exposing that fascinating greyness above the temples
which Daisy had spoken of. A face clean-shaven and so bubblingly
good-humoured that all criticism of his features was futile
appeared below, but a reader of character might easily guess that if
once that bubbling good-humour were expunged, something rather
serious and awkward might be left. But the good-humour seemed
ineradicable; no one could picture hi