mpressively and speaking with great
distinctness he cried:

"Ees Lordship is 'ere, mees," and then after a moment's pause he added,
"'E 'as brought 'is car, mees. It is at the door."

Patricia smiled in spite of herself at Gustave's earnestness.

"Very well, Gustave, say I will not be a moment," she replied and, with
a muttered apology to Mrs. Craske-Morton, she left the table and the
dining-room, conscious of the dramatic tension of the situation.

Patricia ran down the passage leading to the lounge, then, suddenly
remembering that haste and happiness were not in keeping with anger and
reproach, entered the lounge with a sedateness that even Aunt Adelaide
could not have found lacking in maidenly decorum.

Bowen came across from the window and took both her hands.

"Why was she allowing him to do this?" she asked herself. "Why did she
not reproach him, why did she thrill at his touch, why----?"

She withdrew her hands sharply, looked up at him and then for no reason
at all laughed.

How absurd it all was. It was easy to be angry with him when he was at
the Quadrant and she at Galvin House; but with him before her, looking
down at her with eyes that were smilingly confident and gravely
deferential by turn, she found her anger and good resolutions disappear.

"I know you are going to bully me, Patricia." Bowen's eyes smiled; but
there was in his voice a note of enquiry.

"Oh! please let us escape before the others come in sight," said
Patricia, looking over her shoulder anxiously. "They'll all be out in
a moment. I left them straining at their leashes and swallowing
scalding coffee so as to get a glimpse of a real, live lord at close
quarters."

As she spoke Patricia stabbed on a toque.

"Shall I want anything warmer than this?" she enquired as Bowen helped
her into a long fur-trimmed coat.

"I brought a big fur coat for you in case it gets cold," he replied,
and he held open the door for her to pass.

"Quick," she whispered, "they're coming."

As she ran down the steps she nodded brightly to Gustave, who stood
almost bowed down with the burden of his respect for an English lord.

As Bowen swung the car round, Patricia was conscious that at the
drawing-room and lounge windows Galvin House was heavily massed.
Unable to find a space, Miss Sikkum and Mr. Bolton had come out on to
the doorstep and, as the car jerked forward, Miss Sikkum waved her
pocket handkerchief.

Patricia shuddered.

For some