is it?"

"I suppose not. All the same"--Max leaned back nonchalantly against the
window-frame--"if you mean to wait till she grows up, you'll wait a
precious long time, and she will probably run away with another fellow
while you are thinking about it."

Mordaunt clapped a restraining hand on his shoulder. "My friend," he
said, "I don't permit that sort of thing to be said of Chris."

Maxwell's green eyes twinkled. "You don't, eh? That's rather decent of
you. But, you know, there is such a thing as being too trusting. And the
family of Wyndham are not conspicuously famous for their honourable
scruples. Now, Chris is as much a Wyndham as the rest of us, and--I'm
going to say it whether you like it or not, it's the truth also--she
is a deal more likely to keep out of mischief if she marries young. You
are no fool by the look of you. You know there is reason in what I say."

"You have said enough," Mordaunt said, with a touch of sternness.

"All right. The subject is closed. But--just tell me this. Do you--or do
you not--want to marry her before the summer is over?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Because I want to know."

"Well"--Mordaunt's eyes studied him for a few seconds--"it is an
unnecessary question."

"Because I know the answer?" questioned Max.

"Exactly."

"Very well." He straightened himself with a smile. "I think I can manage
that for you."

"Wait!" Mordaunt said. "You mean well, but--I would rather you didn't
attempt it. I would rather that Chris were left to settle this matter for
herself."

"So she will. I know what I'm about, bless your heart! Chris always asks
my advice and generally takes it. She will marry you all right before the
end of the season. You leave it to me."

He turned from the window with the words, still smiling. "Give me five
minutes alone with her," he said.

And Mordaunt, though more than half against his will, yielded the point,
and let him go.

They lunched in the old oak-beamed dining-room--a meal presided over by
Max, who played the host with a half-mocking air, while Chris, still
eager upon the renovations, poured out plans, practicable and otherwise,
for her _fiance's_ consideration.

"What a pity we have to get back!" she said regretfully when the time for
departure drew near. "I want to begin right away, Trevor. Why can't we
spend the night here? Wire to Aunt Philippa, Max. Say we are busy."

Max grinned. "What says Trevor?"

"Quite impossible," said Mordaunt, with