earnestly. "_As_ you will, but do go
ahead with it. I want some lunch."

For five seconds the three men turned the limp, dog's-eared pages until
they had found the place. Manders cleared his throat unreservedly and
then looked up with an expression of ebbing patience, as the door opened
again. This time there was no knock, and Lady Barbara walked in after
hesitating for a moment on the threshold to identify Eric. She was
wearing a black dress with a transparent film of grey hanging from the
shoulders, a black hat shaped like a butterfly's wings with her hair
visible through the spider's web crown. One hand swung a sable stole,
the other carried to and from her mouth a half-eaten apple.

"Eric, _please_ invite me to lunch with you!" she begged. "You've such
delicious food. I was shewn into your dining-room and I could hardly
resist it. There's a dressed crab--I behaved _perfectly_, I didn't touch
it--and, if all three of you had the weeniest little bit less, there'd
be enough for us all. Hullo, there's Mr. Manders!"

She shook hands and waited for Eric to introduce Grierson.

"You're interrupting an important discussion, Lady Barbara."

"Is it about your new play? Oh, then I can help! But, if you knew how
hungry I was----"

"They're expecting you to lunch at home," Eric interrupted. "You told me
you had a party."

"But I've just telephoned to say that I've been invited to lunch here!
I've burnt your boats. Father was perfectly furious, because mother's
lunching with Connie Maitland, and he counted on me to see him through."

As she smiled at Eric with her head on one side, he realized that work
was over for the morning.

"I daresay there will be enough for four," he answered.

"Then for goodness' sake let's begin before any one else turns up
unexpectedly!" she cried, catching him by the sleeves and drawing him to
the door.

Grierson and Manders smiled and followed them, carefully brushing
cigar-ash from their clothes and smoothing the back of their hair.

2

Elation battled with annoyance in Eric's mind throughout luncheon.
Barbara had sought him out, when a hundred other men--several of them,
like George Oakleigh, undisguisedly in love with her--might have been
preferred to him; but he was offended by her proprietory attitude
towards his work and life. Manders would have the whole story, too,
helped out with first-rate mimicry, running through the Thespian Club by
dinner-time; it would spread in twenty