l as for
rapture. And his disillusionments, poor boy, have been so grievously
many.--But Colonel Carteret--yes--dearest child, I do quite follow.--It's
an old story. He has always had _des bonnes fortunes_."

Since her return to Europe, Mrs. Frayling had become much addicted to
embellishing her conversation with such foreign tags, not invariably, it
may be added, quite correctly applied or quoted.

"Women could never resist him in former days in India. They went down
before his charms like a row of ninepins before a ball. I don't deny a
passing _tendresse_ for him myself, though I was married and very happily
married. So I can well comprehend how he may take a girl's fancy by
storm. _Sans peur et sans reproche_, he must seem to her.--And so in the
main, I dare say, he is. At worst a little easy-going, owing to his
cultivation of the universally benevolent attitude. Charity has a habit
of beginning at home, you know; and a man usually views his own
delinquencies at least as leniently as he views those of others. But that
leniency is part of his charm--which I admit is great.--Heaven forbid, I
should undermine your faith in it, if there is anything settled between
you and him."

"But there isn't, there isn't," Damaris broke in, distressed beyond all
calmness of demeanour. "You go too fast, Henrietta. You assume too
much. Nothing is settled of--of that sort. Nothing of that sort has
ever been said."

Mrs. Frayling raised her eyebrows, cast down her eyes, and fingered the
bunch of trinkets hanging from her gold chain in silence for a few
seconds. The ring of sincerity was unquestionable--only where did that
land her? Had not she, in point of fact, very really gone too fast? In
defeat Henrietta became unscrupulous.

"Merely another flirtation, Damaris?" she said. "Darling child, I am just
a wee bit disappointed in you."

Which, among her many fibs, may rank amongst her most impudent and
full-fed, though by no means her last.

Here, the door opened behind her. Henrietta turned alertly, hailing any
interruption which--her bolt being shot--might facilitate her retreat
from a now most embarrassing situation. After all she had planted more
than one seed, which might fruitfully grow, so at that she could leave
matters.--The interruption, however, took a form for which she was
unprepared. To her intense disgust her nerves played her false. She gave
the oddest little stifled squeak as she met Charles Verity's glance,
fixed