uired guardedly.

"I want you to let me carry you off to a quiet place where we can talk."

Miss Brent rose at once. She disliked Calvin House and the inquisitive
glances of its inmates.

"I told Peter to be at the Quadrant until seven. He is very anxious to
meet you," continued Lady Tanagra as they moved towards the door. "I
would not let him come here as I thought, from that Patricia has told
me, that you would not care--to----" She paused.

"You are quite right, Lady Tanagra," said Miss Brent with decision. "I
do not like boarding-houses. They are not the places for the
discussion of family affairs."

Patricia descended the steps of Galvin House, not quite sure whether
this were reality or a dream. She watched Miss Brent seat herself
beside Lady Tanagra, whilst she herself entered the tonneau of the car.
As the door clicked and the car sprang forward, she caught a glimpse of
eager faces at the windows of Galvin House.

As they swung into the Park and hummed along the even road, Patricia
endeavoured to bring herself to earth. She pinched herself until it
hurt. What had happened? She felt like someone present at her own
funeral. Her fate was being decided without anyone seeming to think it
necessary to consult her.

"By half-past five to-morrow afternoon I shall have found a solution."
Bowen's words came back to her. He was right. Lady Tanagra was indeed
a solution. Patricia and Miss Brent were merely lay-figures. It must
be wonderful to be able to make people do what you wished, she mused.
She wondered what would have happened had Bowen possessed his sister's
powers.

At the Quadrant Peel was waiting in the vestibule. With a bow that
impressed Miss Brent, he conducted them to Bowen's suite. As they
entered Bowen sprang up from a writing-table. Patricia noticed that
there was no smell of tobacco smoke. The Bowens were a wonderful
family, she decided, remembering her aunt's prejudices.

"I have only just heard you were in town," she heard Bowen explaining
to Miss Brent. "I rang up Patricia this morning, but she could not
remember your address."

Patricia gasped; but, seeing the effect of the "grey lie" (it was not
quite innocent enough to be called a white lie, she told herself) she
forgave it.

During tea Lady Tanagra and Bowen set to to "play themselves in," as
Lady Tanagra afterwards expressed it.

"Poor Aunt Adelaide," Patricia murmured to herself, "they'll turn her
giddy young hea