ws and settling him in. "Are _you_ off
anywhere, _mon cher_?"

"Yes: to the P. I. sports. I'm one of the judges."

"Then it would be quite useless to go with you. But I'll ride down, if
you like."

Lenox hesitated. He had seen the shadow of disappointment in his
subaltern's eyes.

"N . . no," he said at length. "Better stop and play with Dick. When
I come back I'll get you up into the trap, old man, and take you for a
drive before dinner. Who's coming, Quita? Just the Desmonds and
Courtenay?"

"Yes; and the Ollivers."

"I'm glad. She's good company."

"Which is more than I can say of _him_," Quita remarked, as the door
closed behind her husband. "And he takes me in. Poor me! But you'll
be on the other side; and you must be very kind to me to make up."

He smiled gravely upon her, without replying. She had established
herself on a low stool fronting him; elbows on knees, hands framing her
face, her fearless eyes searching his own.

"What are you smiling at?" she asked.

"The notion of a great buffer like me being 'kind' to _you_. It's you
and Lenox who are a long sight too kind to me. You're spoiling me
between you. Why didn't you go to the sports with him just now?"

"Because I didn't choose!" she answered sweetly. "And as for
spoiling,--what else did we have you here for? The only thing I ask in
return is that you will give up this nonsense about not letting me
paint your portrait. Will you, please?"

He was silent a moment, tugging at his fair moustache, his eyes
avoiding hers. Then:

"It wouldn't be worth all the work you'd put into it," he objected with
an uneasy laugh.

"I'm the best judge of that. Inspiration's been dead in me for months;
and now that you have set the spark ablaze, it's hardly fair or
gracious to fling cold water on the poor thing. But of course if the
sittings would bore you, now you can move about a bit----"

"Bore me? Mrs Lenox!" He looked straight at her now, emphatic denial
in his gaze; and she nodded contentedly, knowing that her point was
gained.

"That's a mercy," she said. "Put on your service kit to-morrow
morning, and we'll start in earnest. I'm longing to begin. But in the
meantime you are generously permitted to beat me at picquet!"

The dinner that evening was, as Quita explained, "Just a family
affair," to celebrate Richardson's good progress, and drink success to
the punitive expedition, which on that very day was filing through t