grizzle!" besought the newcomer. "Why, I've never
known you do such a thing before. Have you been here all this time? I've
been looking for you all over the place. I couldn't leave without one
more good-bye. And see here, _cherie_, you must--you must--come to my
birthday-party on New Year's Eve. If you won't come and stay with me,
which I do think you might, you must come down for that one night. It's
no distance, you know. And it's only a children's show. There won't be
any grown-ups except my cousin Reggie, who is the sweetest man in the
world, and Mummy's Admiral who comes next. Say you will, _cherie_, for I
shall be sixteen--just think of it!--and I do want you to be there. You
will, won't you? Come, promise!"

It was hard to refuse this petitioner, so warmly fascinating was she.
_Mademoiselle_, who, it was well known, never accepted any invitations,
hesitated for the first time--and was lost.

"If I came just for that one evening then, Gwen, you would not press me
to stay longer?"

"Bless you, no!" declared Gwen. "I'll drive you to the station myself in
Mummy's car to catch the first train next morning, if you'll come. And
I'll make Reggie come too. You'll just love Reggie, _cherie_. He's my
exact ideal of what a man ought to be--the best friend I have, next to
you. Well, it's a bargain then, isn't it? You'll come and help dance
with the kids--you promise? That's my own sweet _cherie_! And now you
mustn't grizzle here in the dark any longer. I believe my cab is at the
door. Come down and see me off, won't you?"

Yet again she was irresistible. They went out together, hand in hand,
happy child and lonely woman, and the door of the deserted class-room
banged with a desolate echoing behind them.

II

It was ten days later, on a foggy evening, in the end of the year, that
Reginald Carey alighted at a small wayside station, and grimly prepared
himself for a five-mile trudge through dark and muddy lanes to his
destination.

The only conveyance in the station yard was a private motor car, and his
first glance at this convinced him that it was not there to await him.
He paused under the lamp outside to turn up his collar, and, as he did
so, a man of gigantic breadth and stature, wearing goggles, came out of
the station behind him and strode past. He glanced at Carey casually as
he went by, looked again, then suddenly stopped and peered at him.

"Great Scotland!" he exclaimed abruptly. "I know you--or ought to.