rown, and his mouth, clean-shaven and chiseled,
shut like a vice.

"I am going to do what I am going to do, Mother," he said. "I am
satisfied with my bargain, and I beg of you to accept the situation. I
do not demand any information, and I ask you not to trouble yourself
either. Nothing any one could say would change me--Give me some more
coffee, will you, please."

Lady Tancred's hand trembled a little as she poured it out, but she did
not say anything, and there was silence for a minute, while his lordship
went on with his breakfast, with appetite unimpaired.

"I will take the girls and call there immediately after lunch," she said
presently, "and I am to ask for the Countess Shulski. You pronounce it
like that, do you not?"

"Yes. She may not be in, and in any case, perhaps, for to-day only leave
cards. To-morrow or next day I'll go with you, Mother. You see, until
the announcement comes out in the _Morning Post_, everything is not
quite settled--I expect Zara would like it better if you did not meet
until after then."

That was probably true, he reflected, since he had not even exchanged
personal pledges with her yet himself!

Then, as his mother looked stiffly repulsed, his sense of humor got the
better of him, and he burst into a peal of laughter, while he jumped up
and kissed her with the delightful, caressing boyishness which made her
love him with a love so far beyond what she gave to her other children.

"Darling," she murmured, "if you are so happy as to laugh like that I am
happy, too, and will do just what you wish." Her proud eyes filled with
mist and she pressed his hand.

"Mum, you are a trump!" he said, and he kissed her again and, holding
her arm, he led her back into the morning-room.

"Now I must go and change these things," he announced, as he looked down
at his riding clothes. "I am going to lunch with Markrute in the City to
discuss all the points. So good-bye for the present. I will probably see
you to-night. Call a taxi," he said to Michelham who at that moment came
into the room with a note. He had kissed his mother and was preparing to
leave, when just as he got to the door he turned and said:

"Don't say a word to any one, to-day, of the news--let it come out in
the _Morning Post_, to-morrow. I ask it--please?"

"Not even to Cyril? You have forgotten that he is coming up from Uncle
Charles' to go back to Eton," his mother said, "and the girls already
know."

"Oh! Cyril. By Jove