old piece of furniture.

"Really this is too much," said Felicity as she got into the carriage,
and with difficulty prevented herself from bursting into tears. "What
shall I do? How utterly sickening!" When she got home she found a
telegram from Chetwode putting off his return for a day or two, as there
was an old dresser in the kitchen of a farmhouse which the owner
wouldn't part with, and that he (Chetwode) was not going to lose. It
would be a crime to miss it. His telegram (they were always nearly as
long as his letters) concluded by saying that, given the information
straight from the stables, Peter Pan had a good chance at Sandown.

"Oh!" she said again to herself. "Why, good gracious, I'm miserable!
I've put off everything to-day. The worst of it is I can't do anything
Chetwode wouldn't like, because he likes everything I do."

She got back into the carriage, and told the coachman to drive to Mrs.
Ogilvie's. Poor Vera! She was unhappy too. On her way she met F. J.
Rivers walking with the red-haired girl, so she felt sure that Lucy
Winter was no longer a thorn in the flesh to Vera. And possibly Vera was
very happy to-day! So Felicity wasn't in the mood for her.

She drove to the Park instead (she had put aside all engagements because
Chetwode was coming home), and was thoughtful. Suddenly she caught sight
of Bertie Wilton chattering to another boy by the railings. He bowed
very formally. She stopped the carriage and beckoned to him.

"Would you like to come for a drive?" she said in her sweetest, lowest
tone.

"I should like to immensely, as you know only too well, Lady Chetwode,
but perhaps I'd better not. My bank-holiday manners might bore you."

"How fickle you are. Come along," she commanded.

He had just been on his way, he said, to an Exhibition of Old Masters to
see if there was anything there like the little Romney he had at Half
Moon Street that was so like her. So they drove to the New Gallery
together.

"I was in the depths of despair when I met you. So much so that I was
trying to drown my sorrows in gossip," said Mr. Wilton.

"And I am feeling rather sad," said Felicity; "if we are both horribly
depressed perhaps we shall cheer each other up."

"Ah, but I was depressed about you, and you were depressed about some
one else. I wonder who it is."

"Guess," she said.

"About some one who isn't here? How extraordinary of him not to be here!
Perhaps that's why you like him so much. Perhaps it