, I
thought swiftly, perhaps the best way of avoiding this fuss is to go
quietly--but forbiddingly--to have tea. I needn't let him pay for it.
So I said coldly to the big young man at my heels in the entrance: "I am
going to Blank's."

"Oh, no," said Mr. Burke pleasantly, "we are going to White's. Don't you
like White's?"

I had never been there in my life, of course, but I did not tell him
so.

CHAPTER XIV

CREAM AND COMPLIMENTS

IN a few minutes we were sitting opposite to each other at a pretty
table in the upper room. We were close to the window and could look down
on the Bond Street crowd of people and cars. In front of us was the
daintiest little tea that I had ever seen. This young man is, of course,
accustomed to ordering the sort of tea that women like?

"And this is the second time that you have poured out tea for me, Miss
Lovelace!" remarked the Honourable Jim Burke, as he took the cup from my
hand. "Admirable little hostess that you are, remembering not to ask me
whether I take sugar; storing up in your mind that what I like is a
cupful of sugar with a little tea to moisten it!"

This was quite true.

I felt myself blush as I sat there. Then I glared at him over the plate
of delicious cakes. The young man smiled; a nice smile, that one must
allow.

"You look like a little angry black pigeon now. You've just the
movements of a pigeon ready to peck at some one, and the plumage," he
said, with a critical blue eye on my close-fitting black jacket. "All it
lacks is just a touch of bright coral-red somewhere. A chain, now; a
charm on the bangle; a flower. It's to you I ought to have sent those
carnations, instead of to your----Do you call her your mistress, that
other girl? That one with the voice? Mad idea, the whole arrangement,
isn't it? Just think it over for a moment, and tell me yourself. Don't
you think it's preposterous?"

"I--er----"

I didn't know what to say. I bit into one of the little cakes that
seemed all chocolate and solidity outside. Inside it was all cream and
soft-heartedness and sherry flavouring, and it melted over on to the
crisp cloth.

"There, now, look what a mess you're making," commented the young
Irishman with the undeservedly pleasant voice. "Try one of these almondy
fellows that you can see what you're doing with. To return to you and
your masquerade as Miss Million's maid----"

"It is not a masquerad