ere to discover
you with another girl?"

"Such a thing would probably never happen," Jacob answered. "I am of
an extraordinarily faithful disposition."

She laughed at him across the desk.

"Isn't that queer! So am I! What a lot we have in common, Mr. Pratt!"

"I am beginning to realise it," Jacob assented.

"If only I could make you forget Sybil!"

"If only Sybil would allow me to forget her!" Jacob groaned.

"What you need," she said earnestly, "is to see more of other
nice-looking, attractive young women of somewhat similar type."

"There may be something in that," he conceded.

"Apropos of which, let me explain my visit. I was told to telephone to
you, but I hate a conversation down a tube, don't you?"

"I certainly prefer your visit."

"We've such a rag on," Lady Mary continued. "We're going to have a
picnic fortnight up at our place in Scotland. We want to know whether
you'll come. Dad told me to say that there was plenty of fishing and a
grouse moor for later on. Sailing, of course."

"It sounds delightful," Jacob replied enthusiastically. "Right up in
Scotland you say? To tell you the truth, I was just wondering whether
I couldn't drop out of things quietly for a week or so."

"It will be absolutely the end of us," she declared, smiling out of
her very blue eyes. "Maurice has been a perfect brute to me lately,
apart from his flirtation with Miss Bultiwell, and I have almost left
off loving him. I know we shall both fall. I'm so affectionate," she
sighed.

Jacob felt suddenly soothed. Lady Mary was looking very attractive and
her eyes were full of challenge.

"But tell me," he asked, "isn't it very early for you to leave town?"

She nodded.

"To tell you the truth," she confided, "dad seems to have got into
terrible disgrace with all his relatives lately. Something to do with
a money scheme, I think, in which they were all interested, and in
which he seems to have done better than they did."

"I quite understand," Jacob murmured. "I think this temporary
isolation is an excellent idea of your father's. Sort of place, I
suppose, where you get a post once a week and no telegrams."

"You won't mind?"

"Not I!"

"And you'll come?"

"Rather! When do you start?"

"Some servants are going up to-day," she replied, "and I think we
shall go with them by the midnight train. Poor dad is being so
worried. We'd like you to come to-morrow, or as soon as you can. And
there's just one thing more. Exc