am afraid I do not." Ruth had recovered her book and her composure.
A rose-flush showed yet on either cheek, but it lay not within Mr.
Silk's competence to read so delicate a signal. "Will you explain?"

"Well"--he leered--"it did occur to me there might be some cleverness in
the lady's search after consolation. Her daughter and our Collector
being cousins--eh? At any rate, that's her first thought; to bring the
girl--woman, if you prefer it--over and renew acquaintance with the
heir. Must be excused if I misjudge her. Set it down to zeal for you,
Miss Josselin."

"Willingly, Mr. Silk--if your zeal for me did not outrun my
understanding."

"Yet you're clever. But you won't persuade me you don't see the
difficulty. . . . Er--how shall I put it? The Collector--we'll have to
get used to calling him Sir Oliver--is as cool under fire as any man
this side of the Atlantic; fire of criticism, I mean. There's a limit
though. He despises Colonial opinion--that's his pose; takes pride in
despising it, encouraged by Langton. But England? his family?--that's
another matter. An aunt--and that aunt an earl's daughter--If you'll
believe me, Miss Josselin, I'm a man of family and know the sort.
They're incredible. And the younger lady, if I may remind you, called
Diana; which--er--may warn us that she, too, is particular about these
things." Here Mr. Silk, having at length found his retort upon her
similitude of the satyr, licked his lips.

Ruth drew up and stood tapping her foot. "May I beg to be told exactly
what has happened, sir?"

"What has happened? What has happened is that Vyell is placing Sabines
at the disposal of his aunt and cousin for so long as they may honour
Boston with their presence. He sends the Quiney word to pack and hold
herself in readiness for a flitting. Whither? I cannot say; nor can he
yet have found the temporary nest for you. But doubtless you will hear
in due course. May I offer you my arm?"

"I thank you, no. Indeed we will part here, unless you have further
business in the house--and I gather that your errand there is
discharged. . . . One question--Captain Vyell sent his message by a
letter, which Miss Quiney no doubt will show to me. Did he further
commission you with a verbal one? You had better," she added quietly,
"be particular about telling me the truth; for I may question him, and
for a discovered falsehood he is capable of beating you."

"What I have said," stammer