n seen in a
stable. She smiled proudly and yet sadly at Twemlow, who was pulling his
heavy moustache. Then they could hear an ungoverned burst of Milly's
light laughter from the drawing-room, and presently Milly resumed her
interrupted song. Opposite the outer door of the stable was the window
of the kitchen, whence issued, like an undertone to the song, the
subdued rattle of cups and saucers; and the glow of the kitchen fire
could be distinguished. And over all this complex domestic organism,
attractive and efficient in its every manifestation, and vigorously
alive now in the smooth calm of the English Sunday, she was queen; and
hers was the brain that ruled it while feigning an aloof quiescence. 'He
is a romantic man; he understands all that,' she felt with the certainty
of intuition. Aloud she said she must fasten up the dog.

When they returned to the drawing-room there was no sign of John.

'Hasn't your father come in?' she asked Ethel in a low voice; Milly was
still singing.

'No, mother, I thought he was with you in the garden.' The girl seemed
to respond to Leonora's inquietude.

Milly finished her song, and Twemlow, who had stationed himself behind
her to look at the music, nodded an austere approval.

'You have an excellent voice,' he remarked, 'and you can use it.' To
Leonora this judgment seemed weighty and decisive.

'Mr. Twemlow,' said the girl, smiling her satisfaction, 'excuse me
asking, but are you married?'

'No,' he answered, 'are you?'

'_Mr._ Twemlow!' she giggled, and turning to Ethel, who in anticipation
blushed once again: 'There! I told you.'

'You girls are very curious,' Leonora said perfunctorily.

Bessy came in and set a Moorish stool before the Chesterfield, on the
stool an inlaid Sheraton tray with china and a copper kettle droning
over a lamp, and near it a cakestand in three storeys. And Leonora,
manoeuvring her bangles, commenced the ritual of refection with Harry as
acolyte. 'If he doesn't come--well, he doesn't come,' she thought of her
husband, as she smiled interrogatively at Arthur Twemlow, holding a lump
of sugar aloft in the tongs.

'The Reverend Simon Quain asked who you were, at dinner to-day,' said
Harry. During the absence of Leonora and her guest, Harry had evidently
acquired information concerning Arthur.

'Oh, Mr. Twemlow!' Milly appealed quickly, 'do tell Harry and Ethel what
Dr. Talmage said to you. I think it's so funny--I can't do the accent.'

'What ac