ood in a moment.

"We'll lunch at Ranelagh," he suggested. "It is almost on the way up.
Then we can see what the weather is like. If it is bad, we can dine in
town tonight and do a theatre."

"You are a dear," she told him fervently. "I am going in to get ready."

Francis went round to the garage for his car, and brought it to the
front. While he was sitting there, Sir Timothy came through the door
in the wall. He was smoking a cigar and he was holding an umbrella to
protect his white flannel suit. He was as usual wonderfully groomed and
turned out, but he walked as though he were tired, and his smile, as he
greeted Francis, lacked a little of its usual light-hearted mockery.

"Are you going up to town?" he enquired.

Francis pointed to the grey skies.

"Just for the day," he answered. "Lady Cynthia went by the early train.
We missed you last night."

"I came down late," Sir Timothy explained, "and I found it more
convenient to stay at The Walled House. I hope you find that Grover
looks after you while I am away? He has carte blanche so far as regards
my cellar."

"We have been wonderfully served," Francis assured him.

In the distance they could hear the sound of hammering on the other side
of the wall. Francis moved his head in that direction.

"I hear that they are preparing for another of your wonderful
entertainments over there," he remarked.

"On Thursday," Sir Timothy assented. "I shall have something to say to
you about it later on."

"Am I to take it that I am likely to receive an invitation?" Francis
asked.

"I should think it possible," was the calm reply.

"What about Margaret?"

"My entertainment would not appeal to her," Sir Timothy declared.
"The women whom I have been in the habit of asking are not women of
Margaret's type."

"And Lady Cynthia?"

Sir Timothy frowned slightly.

"I find myself in some difficulty as regards Lady Cynthia," he admitted.
"I am the guardian of nobody's morals, nor am I the censor of their
tastes, but my entertainments are for men. The women whom I have
hitherto asked have been women in whom I have taken no personal
interest. They are necessary to form a picturesque background for my
rooms, in the same way that I look to the gardeners to supply the
floral decorations. Lady Cynthia's instincts, however, are somewhat
adventurous. She would scarcely be content to remain a decoration."

"The issuing of your invitations," Francis remarked, "is of course a
ma