at--to let you be insulted
by her guests?"

"I don't think Lord Bentworth meant to insult me. He only said he had
never seen such a red, curly mouth as mine; and as I was bound to go to
the devil some day with that, and such hair, I might begin by kissing
him--he explained it all."

"And were you not very angry?" his voice wrathful.

"No, not very; I could not be, I was shaking so with laughter. If you
could have seen the silly old thing, like a wizened monkey, with dyed hair
and an eye-glass--it was too comic! I only told you because you said the
sentence 'begin with you,' and I wanted to know if it was the same
thing----"

Mr. Carruthers's eyes had such a strange expression--puzzle and amusement,
and something else. He came over close to me.

"Because," I went on, "if so--I believe if that is always the beginning, I
don't want any beginnings. I haven't the slightest desire to kiss any one.
I should simply hate it."

Mr. Carruthers laughed. "Oh, you are only a baby child, after all!" he
said.

This annoyed me. I got up with great dignity. "Tea will be ready in the
white drawing-room," I said, stiffly, and walked towards my bedroom door.

He came after me.

"Send your maid away, and let us have it up here," he said. "I like this
room."

But I was not to be appeased thus easily, and deliberately called
Veronique and gave her fresh directions.

"Poor old Mr. Barton will be feeling so lonely," I said, as I went out
into the passage. "I am going to see that he has a nice tea," and I looked
back at Mr. Carruthers over my shoulder. Of course, he followed me, and we
went together down the stairs.

In the hall a footman with a telegram met us. He tore it open impatiently.
Then he looked quite annoyed.

"I hope you won't mind," he said, "but a friend of mine, Lord Robert
Vavasour, is arriving this afternoon. He is a--er--great judge of
pictures. I forgot I asked him to come down and look at them; it clean
went out of my head."

I told him he was host, and why should I object to what guests he had.

"Besides, I am going myself to-morrow," I said, "if Veronique can get the
packing done."

"Nonsense! How can I make you understand that I do not mean to let you go
at all?"

I did not answer--only looked at him defiantly.

Mr. Barton was waiting patiently for us in the white drawing-room, and we
had not been munching muffins for five minutes when the sound of wheels
crunching the gravel of the great sweep--the