e was never in
the least disconcerted thereby. He hadn't the brains to take offence,
she told herself impatiently, and yet somewhere at the back of her mind
there lurked a vagrant suspicion that he was not always as obtuse as he
seemed.

She had been rude to him on the present occasion and he had retaliated
with his smiling speech regarding her intellect which had made her feel
vaguely uncomfortable. It might have been--it probably was--an effort at
bluff on his part, but, uttered by any other man, it would have had
almost a hectoring sound.

"I haven't the smallest notion what you mean," she said, after a decided
pause.

"Charmed to explain," he murmured.

"Pray don't trouble!" she rejoined severely. "It doesn't signify in the
least. Explanations always bore me."

Lord Ronald smiled his imperturbable smile and flicked a gnat from his
sleeve.

"Especially when they are futile, eh, Mrs. Denvers? I'm not fond of 'em
myself. Haven't much ability for that sort of thing."

"Have you any ability for anything, I wonder?" she said.

He turned his smooth, good-humoured countenance towards her. It wore a
speculative look, as though he were wondering if by any chance she could
have meant to be nasty.

"Oh, rather!" he said. "I can do quite a lot of things--and decently,
too--from boiling potatoes to taming snakes. Never heard me play the
cornet, have you?"

Beryl remarked somewhat unnecessarily that she detested the cornet. She
seemed to be thoroughly exasperated with him for some reason, and
evidently wished that he would take his leave. But this fact had not
apparently yet penetrated to Lord Ronald's understanding, for he was the
most obliging of men at all times, and surely would never have dreamed
of intruding his presence where it was unwelcome.

He sat on his favourite perch, the music-stool, and swung himself gently
to and fro while he mildly upheld the virtues of the instrument she had
slighted.

"I was asked to perform at a smoker the other night at the barracks," he
said. "The men seemed to enjoy it immensely."

"Soldiers like anything noisy," said Beryl Denvers scathingly.

And then--because he had no retort ready--her heart smote her.

"But it was kind of you to go," she said. "I am sure you wouldn't enjoy
it."

"Oh, but I did," he said, "on the whole. I should have liked it better
if Fletcher hadn't been in the chair, and so, I think, would they. But
it passed off very fairly well."

"Why do yo