frown wrinkling her brows. "I never do, as a rule, when I'm with
you."

She smiled rather wistfully and with a restless movement he sprang to his
feet and began pacing the room. A little cry of dismay broke from her
and she came quickly to his side, lifting a questioning face to his.

"Why, Peter--Peter--What have I said? You're not angry, are you?"

"_Angry_!" His voice roughened a bit. "If I could only tell you the
truth!"

"Tell it me," she said simply.

For a moment he was silent. Then:

"Don't ask me, Nan. There are some things that can't be told."

As he spoke, his eyes, dark and passionate with some forcibly restrained
emotion, met hers, and in an instant it seemed as though the thing he
must not speak were spoken.

Nan flushed scarlet from brow to throat, her eyes widened, and the breath
fluttered unevenly between her parted lips. She knew--_she knew_ what
Mallory had left unsaid.

"Peter----"

She held out her hands to him with a sudden childish gesture of
surrender, and involuntarily he gathered them into his own. At the same
moment the door opened to admit the maid and he drew back quickly, while
Nan's outstretched hands fell limply to her side.

"This wire's just come for you, miss," said the maid, and from her manner
it was quite impossible to guess whether she had observed anything
unusual or not. "I took it to Miss Craig by mistake."

Mechanically Nan extracted the thin sheet from its torn envelope. As her
eyes absorbed the few lines of writing, her face whitened and she drew
her breath in sharply.

The next instant, however, she recovered her poise, and crumpling the
telegram into a ball she addressed the maid composedly.

"There's no answer," she said. Adding: "Has anyone arrived yet?"

"Mrs. Seymour is here, miss. And"--listening--"I think Lord St. John
must have arrived."

Nan turned to Mallory.

"Then we'd better go, Peter. Come along."

Mallory, as he followed her into the sitting-room, realised that she had
all at once retreated a thousand miles away from him. He wondered what
the contents of the telegram could have been. The oblong red envelope
seemed to have descended suddenly between them like a shutter.

Lord St. John, having only just arrived, was still standing as they
entered the room, and Nan rushed into apologies as she shook hands with
him and kissed Mrs. Seymour.

"Heaps of apologies for not being here when you arrived. I really
haven't any excu