d bow and air. He had
not been to Eton and Oxford and touched the outskirts of two or three
London seasons, as a boy beauty and a modest Apollo Belvidere in his
teens, without learning a number of pleasant little ways.

"You are exactly as you were the morning you came into the Gardens
dressed in crocuses and daffodils. I thought they were daffodils and
crocuses. I said so to my mother afterwards."

He did not like her but he knew how her world talked to her. And he
wanted to hear her speak--The Lady Downstairs--who had not "liked" the
soft-eyed, longing, warm little lonely thing.

"All people say of you is entirely true," she said. "I did not believe
it at first but I do now." She patted the seat of the small sofa she had
dropped on. "Come and sit here and talk to me a few minutes. Girls will
come and snatch you away presently but you can spare about three
minutes."

He did as he was told and wondered as he came nearer to the shell
fineness of her cheek and her seraphic smile.

"I want you to tell me something about my only child," she said.

He hoped very much that he did not flush in his sometimes-troublesome
blond fashion then. He hoped so.

"I shall be most happy to tell you anything I have the honour of
knowing," he answered. "Only ask."

"You would be capable of putting on a touch of Lord Coombe's little
stiff air--if you were not so young and polite," she said. "It was Lord
Coombe who told me about the old Duchess' dance--and that you tangoed or
swooped--or kicked with my Robin. He said both of you did it
beautifully."

"Miss Gareth-Lawless did--at least."

He was looking down and so did not chance to see the look of a little
cat which showed itself in her quick side glance.

"She is not my Robin now. She belongs to the Dowager Duchess of
Darte--for a consideration. She is one of the new little females who are
obstinately determined to earn an honest living. I haven't seen her for
months--perhaps years. Is she pretty?" The last three words came out
like the little cat's pounce on a mouse. Donal even felt momentarily
startled.

But he remained capable of raising clear eyes to hers and saying, "She
was prettier than any one else at the Duchess' house that night. Far
prettier."

"Have you never seen her since?"

This was a pounce again and he was quite aware of it.

"Yes."

Feather gurgled.

"That was really worthy of Lord Coombe," she said. "I wasn't being
pushing, really, Mr. Muir. If any