uble her spirit at all. But
then, dash it, I remembered she was used to him this way. She did not
even wait, but with a bright smile and a murmured word to me, left her
friend and myself to await Wilkes' report.

The frump kind of glared down the deserted vista of the fine old hall
and shrugged her shoulders.

"Everybody loafing, as usual," she muttered sourly, and she hurled her
coat at the carven back of a great cathedral chair--and missed it.

It was clear that her type scorned conventionalities and knew how to
make themselves thoroughly at home.

"I hope you'll be made comfortable here, Mr. Lightnut," she said,
peeling a glove with a jerk, "but I have my doubts."

And she gave a kind of hollow laugh.

I shifted distressfully. "Oh, really now," I began protestingly, but she
marched right over me:

"I can assure you that a guest _here_ earns a martyr's crown," she said,
lifting her eyebrows. Then she shook her head, her lips compressed.

I coughed. _Couldn't_ say the thing I _wanted_ to say, you know--seemed
too devilish rude. Just have to stand it when they talk that way.
Pugsley says best thing to do is to purse up your lips and bob your
head--you don't have to mean it.

So I just went through all this and threw in a shrug, too. Thought no
use having her mad and working against me with Frances. Catch the idea?
Simple thing, you know, just to play her with my _finesse_.

"Awfully tiresome, these country places," I said sympathetically. I
screwed my glass at a couple of footmen who came into view at the far
end of the hall, and who were whispering and chuckling about something.
"Things seem to be run a bit loose, don't you know--that's a fact. Don't
mind for myself, but fancy a girl might find it rather trying visiting
here."

By Jove, how she opened her eyes at me--surprised, I knew, at finding me
such a devilish keen observer. My sympathy touched her, too, for her
eyeballs shone moist of a sudden and I saw her lip tremble as she
stared. Then she swallowed hard and slapped her gloves sharply across
her palm.

"It's Francis that's to blame for that sort of thing," she rasped,
nodding down the hall.

"Frances?" I ejaculated in protest. "Oh, here, I _say_, now--"

"You don't _know_ Francis, Mr. Lightnut!" Her jaw grounded with a snap,
and what a look she gave me! "Wait till you do--you just wait!" And eyes
and hands lifted to the ceiling.

I coughed again.

The cat! And _this_ was my darling's frien