pon love's latch, and which closes behind the
woman, shutting her into paradise or hell.

"Run along, my chicken. . . . And give Ralph my blessing!"

* * * * * *

It was not until the next day, towards the end of lunch, that Ralph
shot his bolt from the blue. Other matters--which seemed almost too
good to be true in the light of Penelope's unqualified refusal of him
three days ago--had occupied his mind to the exclusion of everything
else. Nor, to give him his due, was he in the least aware that he was
administering any kind of shock, since he was quite ignorant as to the
actual state of affairs betwixt Nan and Maryon Rooke.

It was Kitty herself who inadvertently touched the spring which let
loose the bolt.

"What's the news in town, Ralph?" she asked. "Surely you gleaned
_something_, even though you were only there for a single night?"

Fenton laughed.

"Would I dare to come back to you without the latest?" he returned,
smiling. "The very latest is that Maryon Rooke is to be married."

A silence followed, as though a bombshell had descended in their midst
and scattered the whole party to the four winds of heaven.

Then Kitty, making a desperate clutch at her self-possession, remarked
rather superficially:

"Surely that's not true? I thought Maryon was far too confirmed a
bachelor to be beguiled into the holy bonds."

"It's perfectly true," returned Fenton. "First-hand source. I ran
across Rooke himself and it was he who told me. They're to be married
very shortly, I believe."

Fell another awkward silence. Then:

"So old Rooke will be in the cart with the rest of us poor married
men," observed Barry, whose lazy blue eyes had yet contrived to notice
that Nan's slim fingers were nervously occupied in crumbling her bread
into small pieces.

"In the car, rather," responded Ralph, "The lady is fabulously wealthy,
I believe. Former husband, a steel magnate or something of the sort."

"Well, that will help Maryon in his profession," said Nan, "with a
quiet composure that was rather astonishing. But, as usual, in a
social crisis of this nature, she seemed able to control her voice,
though her restless fingers betrayed her.

"Yes, presumably that's why he's marrying her," replied Ralph. "It
can't be a case of love at first sight"--grimly.

"Isn't she pretty, then?" asked Penelope.

"Plain as a pikestaff"--with emphasis. "I've met her once or
twice--Lady Beverl