discrimination to doubt the sincerity of any one
of his moods.

She had left him on the point of going to his room to play for Tommy,
and knew that her brother would probably unfold to him during the
afternoon his plan of becoming a violinist.

If the child had talent, Joyselle would, she believed, do his utmost to
help him, and this was another reason why she could not make up her mind
how to manage her own affairs.

Even if she wished to break her engagement and never see Joyselle again,
had she the right thus to take from her brother the chance of great
happiness and protection that seemed to have come to him?

"Joyselle would never speak to me again if I threw Theo over," she told
herself. "First, he would scold me violently, and then he'd lop us all
off, trunk and branch. And--he might be the making of Tommy. Theo is so
gentle and good, and he so splendid--I could have Tommy a lot
with--us----"

On the other hand, however, what if she went from bad to worse regarding
Joyselle? Would she be able to bear it?

Her thoughts turning the matter relentlessly over and over, as a
squirrel does his wheel, she came home, getting there just at tea-time.

Lady Kingsmead, very much bored with her guests, had her useful
headache, and the girl had to hurry into dry clothes, for the rain had
come on, and play hostess.

"Tea, M. Joyselle?"

He made a wry and very ludicrous face. "_Merci_, Lady Brigit!"

"French people always loathe tea, my dear," laughed the Duchess; "they
take it when they have colds, as we take quinine."

Miss Letchworth, who had been three times to Paris for a week at a time,
looked up from her embroidery. "Oh, _Duchess_! People of our class often
drink it," she protested, the only tea she had ever consumed in Paris
being that of her hotel or of Columbins, "don't they, mossoo?"

Joyselle's eyes drew down at the corners and he gave his big moustache a
martial, upward twist. "Ask others, mademoiselle," he retorted wickedly.
"I am not of your class!"

It was brutal, and there was a short silence. Brigit was annoyed. Last
night she had hoped for one of his outbursts, but now that it had come
she was ashamed for him. And she shivered as she realised that this
shame was a serious sign.

"Horrid speech," she remarked, looking into the teapot she had forgotten
to fill with water, "isn't it, Theo?"

But Theo only laughed and shrugged his shoulders. His father was his
father, and except in little matter