am pleased," he said.

He helped her into the carriage, and turned, still smiling, to the man
behind her. Yet he flinched ever so slightly from the grip of Mordaunt's
hand. It was the merest gesture, scarcely perceptible; in a moment he had
covered it with the quick courtesy of his race. But Mordaunt was aware of
it, and for a single instant he wondered.

He took his place beside his bride, who tucked her hand inside his arm,
with a little sob of sheer relief.

"Did I sound very squeaky, Trevor? I tried not to squeak."

He forgot Bertrand and everyone else but the trembling girl by his side.
He laid a soothing hand on hers.

"My dear, you did splendidly. It wasn't so very terrifying, was it?"

"It was appalling," said Chris. "I kept saying to myself, 'Just a little
longer and then that lovely new motor--my motor--and home.' You are going
to give me my first lesson in driving to-day, aren't you? Say yes!"

He said "Yes," feeling that he was bestowing a reward for good behaviour.

She squeezed his arm. "And isn't it nice," she whispered, with shining
eyes, "to feel that we are really going to stay there when we get there?"

He pressed the small, confiding hand. "You are glad, then, Chris?" he
said.

"Oh, my dear, I should think I am!" she made answer. "I've been counting
the days to the one when I shan't have to peck Aunt Philippa good-night.
She never kisses properly and she won't let me. She says it's childish
and unrestrained." She laid her cheek suddenly against his shoulder.
"I've had no one to hug for ever so long--except Cinders," she said.

"Hasn't Cinders been enough?" he asked, with a hint of surprise.

She turned her face upwards quickly. "Trevor, you're not to laugh at me!
It isn't fair."

He smiled a little. "I am not laughing, Chris, I assure you. I have
always thought until this moment that Cinders was more precious to you
than anyone else in the world."

"Oh, that's because you're a man," said Chris inconsequently. "Men always
have absurd theories about women and the things they care for. As if we
can't love heaps of people at the same time!"

"You can only love one person best," he pointed out.

"At a time," supplemented Chris, with a merry smile. "And you choose your
person according to your mood. At least, I do. Oh, Trevor," with a sudden
change of tone, "don't look! There's a hearse!"

She hid her face against him, and he felt a violent tremor go through
her. He put his arm about he