anged.
"Yes, it's all right, dear," he said, smiling at her. "Take it, won't
you? I am--quite--sure."

She took it obediently, but her reluctance was still very manifest.
Nick, however, did not appear to notice this.

"Don't look at it now," he said. "Wait till I'm not there. Put it away
somewhere for the present, and let's have another gallop."

She glanced at him as she slipped his gift into her pocket. "Won't you
let me thank you, Nick?" she asked shyly.

"Wait till you've seen it," he returned. "You may not think it worth
it. Ready? One! Two! Three!"

In the scamper that followed, the blood surged back to her face, and
her spirits rose again; but in her secret heart there yet remained a
nameless dread that she was as powerless to define as to expel.

CHAPTER XII

THE MESSAGE

Lady Bassett was still invisible when Muriel returned to the bungalow
though breakfast was waiting for them on the verandah. She passed
quickly through to her room and commenced hasty preparations for a
bath. It had been a good ride, and she realised that, though tired,
she was also very hungry.

She slipped Nick's gift out of the pocket of her riding-habit, but she
would not stop to open it then. That should come presently, when
she had the whole garden to herself, and all the leisure of the long
summer morning before her. She felt that in a sense she owed him that.

But a note that caught her eye lying on the table she paused to open
and hastily peruse. The writing was unfamiliar to her--a dashing,
impetuous scrawl that excited her curiosity.

"Dear Miss Roscoe," it ran,--"Don't think me an unmitigated bore if
you can help it. I am wondering if you would have the real kindness
to waive ceremony and pay me a visit this afternoon. I shall be quite
alone, unless my baby can be considered in the light of a social
inducement. I know that Nick contemplates bringing you to see me, and
so he shall, if you prefer it. But personally I consider that he would
be decidedly _de trop_. I feel that we shall soon know each other so
well that a formal introduction seems superfluous. Let me know your
opinion by word of mouth, or if not, I shall understand. Nick, being
of the inferior species, could hardly be expected to do so, though I
admit that he is more generously equipped in the matter of intellect
than most.--Your friend to be,

"Daisy Musgrave."

Muriel laid down the letter with a little smile. Its spontaneous
friendliness was l