that filled her mind was how to get Betty and her baby.
Nearly four! Dad was almost sure to be at his club. And leaning out, she
said: "No; Hyde Park Corner, please."

The hall porter, who knew her, after calling to a page-boy: "Major
Winton--sharp, now!" came specially out of his box to offer her a seat
and The Times.

Gyp sat with it on her knee, vaguely taking in her surroundings--a thin
old gentleman anxiously weighing himself in a corner, a white-calved
footman crossing with a tea-tray; a number of hats on pegs; the
green-baize board with its white rows of tapelike paper, and
three members standing before it. One of them, a tall, stout,
good-humoured-looking man in pince-nez and a white waistcoat, becoming
conscious, removed his straw hat and took up a position whence, without
staring, he could gaze at her; and Gyp knew, without ever seeming to
glance at him, that he found her to his liking. She saw her father's
unhurried figure passing that little group, all of whom were conscious
now, and eager to get away out of this sanctum of masculinity, she met
him at the top of the low steps, and said:

"I want to talk to you, Dad."

He gave her a quick look, selected his hat, and followed to the door. In
the cab, he put his hand on hers and said:

"Now, my dear?"

But all she could get out was:

"I want to come back to you. I can't go on there. It's--it's--I've come
to an end."

His hand pressed hers tightly, as if he were trying to save her the need
for saying more. Gyp went on:

"I must get baby; I'm terrified that he'll try to keep her, to get me
back."

"Is he at home?"

"I don't know. I haven't told him that I'm going to leave him."

Winton looked at his watch and asked:

"Does the baby ever go out as late as this?"

"Yes; after tea. It's cooler."

"I'll take this cab on, then. You stay and get the room ready for her.
Don't worry, and don't go out till I return."

And Gyp thought: 'How wonderful of him not to have asked a single
question.'

The cab stopped at the Bury Street door. She took his hand, put it to
her cheek, and got out. He said quietly:

"Do you want the dogs?"

"Yes--oh, yes! He doesn't care for them."

"All right. There'll be time to get you in some things for the night
after I come back. I shan't run any risks to-day. Make Mrs. Markey give
you tea."

Gyp watched the cab gather way again, saw him wave his hand; then, with
a deep sigh, half anxiety, half relief, she rang th