se his colour
at the sight of her. He had thought, at first, there was.

This was the beginning of an acquaintance which gave rise to much
argument over tea-cups regarding the degree of Coombe's interest in her.
Remained, however, the fact that he managed to see a great deal of her.
Feather was guilelessly doubtless concerning him. She was quite sure
that he was in love with her, and very practically aware that the more
men of the class of the Head of the House of Coombe who came in and out
of the slice of a house, the more likely the dwellers in it were to get
good invitations and continued credit.

The realisation of these benefits was cut short. Robert, amazingly and
unnaturally, failed her by dying. He was sent away in a hearse and the
tiny house ceased to represent hilarious little parties.

Bills were piled high everywhere. The rent was long overdue and must be
paid. She had no money to pay it, none to pay the servants' wages.

"It's awful--it's awful--it's awful!" broke out between her sobs.

From her bedroom window--at evening--she watched "Cook," the smart
footman, the nurse, the maids, climb into four-wheelers and be driven
away.

"They're gone--all of them!" she gasped. "There's no one left in the
house. It's empty!"

Then was Feather seized with a panic. She had something like hysterics,
falling face downward upon the carpet and clutching her hair until it
fell down. She was not a person to be judged--she was one of the
unexplained incidents of existence.

The night drew in more closely. A prolonged wailing shriek tore through
the utter soundlessness of the house. It came from the night-nursery. It
was Robin who had wakened and was screaming.

"I--I _won't_!" Feather protested, with chattering teeth. "I won't! I
_won't_!"

She had never done anything for the child since its birth. To reach her
now, she would be obliged to go out into the dark--past Robert's
bedroom--_the_ room.

"I--I couldn't--even if I wanted to!" she quaked. "I daren't! I
daren't! I wouldn't do it--for a _million pounds_!"

The screams took on a more determined note. She flung herself on her
bed, burrowing her head under the coverings and pillows she dragged over
her ears to shut out the sounds.

* * * * *

Feather herself had not known, nor in fact had any other human being
known why Lord Coombe drifted into seeming rather to follow her about.
But there existed a reason, and this it was, a