ndulgence turned to approval on Mordaunt's face. "I can guess what
that was," he said.

"Can you?" Chris looked delighted. "Well, you mustn't tell Aunt Philippa,
because she would call it shocking extravagance, and I really only did it
to please you."

"Oh! Then I am afraid I haven't guessed right." Mordaunt's expression
became one of grave doubt.

Chris laughed aloud. "You will have to guess again. No, please go on
dancing. One only gets hotter standing still."

"But, Chris," he said, "I want to know."

His tone was perfectly kind, as gentle as it always was when he addressed
her, and yet the quick glance that she threw him was not without a hint
of misgiving. The slender young body stiffened ever so slightly against
his arm.

"I wonder if Bertie has found a partner," she said. "Do you think we
ought to go and see?"

He guided her towards the entrance. A good many people were standing
about, and one after another accosted Chris. She answered blithely
enough, her hand still upon her _fiance's_ arm, but yet there was that
about her that made him aware that she was not wholly at her ease. When
he drew her towards a room beyond that led to a conservatory, she hung
back.

"I want to find Bertie. Where is he?"

Jack Forest appeared at that moment, and she turned to him with evident
relief. "Oh, Jack, where is Mr. Bertrand? I told Max to hand him over to
you. He knows no one, and I do want him to have a good time."

"Be easy, my child," said Jack, with a cheery grin. "He is having the
time of his life. The mater has taken him under her wing."

"Jack!" Chris stood aghast.

"Don't agitate yourself," said Jack. "It's all serene. He is thoroughly
enjoying himself. Where are you two off to? Going to sit out in the dark?
Shall I come and mount guard?"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous!" protested Chris. "Jack, remember our dance is
the next."

Jack bowed with his hand on his heart. "I don't forget such things. Make
the most of your time, Trevor. It's nearly up."

He departed with a careless swagger, and Chris turned to her quiet
companion and gave a little shiver. "Why did we leave off dancing? I'm
cold."

He led her across the hall to a settee. Someone had thrown a scarf upon
it. He put it round her shoulders.

"It isn't mine," she said, "and it isn't that sort of cold either. I hope
Aunt Philippa isn't teasing Bertie. Do you think she is?"

"I think he can take care of himself," Mordaunt said.

"Do you? I don't.