m-chair, quite
unnecessarily, but perhaps to hurry her departure.

"You'd better leave us alone now, darling," she said, "and girlie will
tell you all about it afterwards."

Mrs. Luscombe ran like a hare through a side door.

The servant announced, throwing open the folding doors, "Mr. Rathbone."

In two seconds the feather-duster was behind a screen, and Flora,
looking really very handsome--she was, as usual in the daytime, in
semi-evening dress--was reading a little book covered in old vellum, and
kept for the purpose of her being found reading it. She put it down and
welcomed her guest charmingly.

Rathbone, looking very fair and pink and rather determined, had brought
with him a kind of case containing his collection of old theatre
programmes, so that he gave the impression of being a diplomat of high
importance with a portfolio.

She helped him prettily to show her the programmes, and was pleased to
see that there was something else on his mind.

She gave him a cigarette and they had tea. He told her the ancient story
of his writing to Cissie Loftus, and how he had never received an
answer. She welcomed the anecdote as though it combined the brilliance
of a jewel with the freshness of a daisy.

Then he spoke in a somewhat thick voice and with that rather gruff
manner that she associated with sincerity.

"Miss Luscombe, I ..."--he sighed deeply. "To tell you the truth,
there's something--for a long time I've wanted to ask you."

He fixed on her intently his blue eyes, in which there was an ardent
glare.

"Really, Mr. Rathbone? What can I do for you?"

"A great deal. The question is, what would you do for me?"

"Oh, that depends," she said, smiling, looking down, and enjoying
herself.

"Not to put too fine a point upon it, Miss Luscombe----"; he stopped
nervously.

"Miss Luscombe sounds so formal," she murmured.

"You wouldn't allow me to call you Flora, would you?"

He smiled, but she thought he looked disappointed. Perhaps he was a man
who needed difficulties--opposition.

"Well ... I ... it depends," she said.

"Look here, Flora, you're a very charming woman. I have a great
admiration for you. What is more, I believe you to be a thoroughly
good----" he hesitated again; was he going to say 'woman,'
'actress?'--he decided on 'sort.'

"Oh!"

"Now I'll reveal to you the dream of my life, which I wouldn't tell to
anybody else."

"I wonder if I can guess it?" she said, wishing he would hurr