er hands, and
the paper fluttered to the floor. 'But I must be there by three,' she
said.

He had picked up the telegraph form as well as the handkerchief lying
near.

'Why, it's only an invitation to dine--Wednesday!'

'Sh!' She took the paper.

'Oh! I see!' He smiled and lowered his voice. 'It's rather dear of you
to arrange our going off like that. You _are_ a clever little girl!'

'It's not exactly that I was arranging. I want to hear those women in
Trafalgar Square--the Suffragettes.'

He stared at her more than half incredulous, but smiling still.

'How perfectly absurd! Besides,'--he looked across the room at Lady
John--'besides, I expect she wouldn't like my carrying you off like
that.'

'Then she'll have to make an excuse, and come too.'

'Ah, it wouldn't be quite the same if she did that.'

But Jean had thought it out. 'Aunt Ellen and I could get back quite well
in time for dinner.'

The group that had closed about the departing guest dissolved.

'Why are you saying good-bye as if you were never coming back?' Lord
John demanded.

'One never knows,' Miss Levering laughed. 'Maybe I shan't come back.'

'Don't talk as if you meant never!' said Mrs. Freddy.

'Perhaps I do mean never.' She nodded to Stonor.

He bowed ceremoniously.

'Never come back! What nonsense are you talking?' said Lady John.

'Is it premonition of death, or don't you like us any more?' laughed her
husband.

The little group trailed across the great room, escorting the guest to
the front door, Lady John leading the way. As they passed, Geoffrey
Stonor was obviously not listening very attentively to Jean's
enthusiastic explanation of her plan for the afternoon. He kept his eyes
lowered. They rested on the handkerchief he had picked up, but hardly as
if, after all, they saw it, though he turned the filmy square from
corner to corner with an air partly of nervousness, partly of
abstraction.

'Is it mine?' asked Jean.

He paused an instant. 'No. Yours,' he said, mechanically, and held out
the handkerchief to Miss Levering.

She seemed not to hear. Lord John had blocked the door a moment,
insisting on a date for the next visit. Jean caught up the handkerchief
and went running forward with it. Suddenly she stopped, glancing down at
the embroidered corner.

'But that's not an L! It's V--i----'

Stonor turned his back, and took up a magazine.

Lady John's voice sounded clear from the lobby. 'You must let Vida go,
John