said her uncle, kindly. 'We naturally expect
now that you'll begin to think like Geoffrey Stonor, and to feel like
Geoffrey Stonor, and to talk like Geoffrey Stonor. And quite proper,
too!'

'Well,'--Jean quickly recovered her smiles--'if I _do_ think with my
husband, and feel with him--as of course I shall--it will surprise me if
I ever find myself talking a tenth as well!' In her enthusiasm she
followed her uncle to the French window. 'You should have heard him at
Dutfield.' She stopped short. 'The Freddy Tunbridges!' she exclaimed,
looking out into the garden. A moment later her gay look fell. 'What?
Not Aunt Lydia! Oh-h!' She glanced back reproachfully at Lady John, to
find her making a discreet motion of 'I couldn't help it!' as the party
from the garden came in.

The greetings of the Freddys were cut short by Mrs. Heriot, who embraced
her niece with a significant warmth.

'_I_ wasn't surprised,' she said _sotto voce_. 'I always prophesied----'

'Sh--_Please_----' the girl escaped.

'We haven't met since you were in short skirts,' said the young man who
had been watching his opportunity. 'I'm Dick Farnborough.'

'Oh, I remember.' Jean gave him her hand.

Mrs. Freddy was looking round and asking where was the Elusive One?

'Who is the Elusive One?' Jean demanded.

'Lady John's new ally in good works!' said Mrs. Freddy. 'Why, you met
her one day at my house before you went back to Scotland.'

'Oh, you mean Miss Levering.'

'Yes; nice creature, isn't she?' said Lord John, benevolently.

'I used rather to love her,' said Mrs. Freddy, brightly, 'but she
doesn't come to us any more. She seems to be giving up going anywhere,
except here, so far as I can make out.'

'She knows she can rest here,' said Lady John.

'What does she do to tire her?' demanded Mr. Freddy. 'Hasn't she been
amusing herself in Norway?'

'Since she came back she's been helping my sister and me with a scheme
of ours,' said Lady John.

'She certainly knows how to juggle money out of the men!' admitted Mrs.
Heriot.

'It would sound less equivocal, Lydia, if you added that the money is to
build baths in our Shelter for Homeless Women.'

'Homeless women?' echoed Mr. Freddy.

'Yes; in the most insanitary part of Soho.'

'Oh--a--really.' Mr. Freddy stroked his smart little moustache.

'It doesn't sound quite in Miss Levering's line,' Farnborough hazarded.

'My dear boy,' said his hostess, 'you know as little about what's in a
wom