as Slotman. I am thankful you are freed from any such need."

She had wronged him by that thought, she was glad to realise it. He had
not known, then.

"My uncle died. He left me his fortune and the old home of our family,
which he had recently bought back, Starden Hall, in Kent. I am living
there now with Mrs. Everard, my friend and companion, and now--"

While she had been waiting to be served with a bag that she did not
particularly require, Helen Everard watched them through the
shop-window. She watched him particularly.

"I like him; he looks honest," she thought. "It is all strange and
curious. If it were not true what Lady Linden said, why did she say it?
If it is true, then--then why--what is the cause of the quarrel between
them? Will they make it up? He does not look like a man who could treat
a woman badly. Oh dear!" Helen sighed, for she had her own plans. Like
every good woman, she was a born matchmaker at heart. She had a deep and
sincere affection for John Everard. She had decided long ago that she
must find Johnny a good wife, and here had been the very thing, only
there was this Mr. Hugh Alston.

She had been served with the bag, it had been wrapped in paper for her,
and now Helen came out. She had lingered as long as she could to give
this man every chance.

"I am afraid I have been a long time, Joan," she began.

Hugh turned to her eagerly.

"Mrs.--Everard," he said, "I have been trying to induce Miss Meredyth to
come and have lunch with me."

"Oh!" Joan cried. The word lunch had never passed his lips till now, and
she looked at him angrily.

"I suggest Prince's," he said. "Let's get a taxi and go there now."

"Thank you, I do not require any lunch," Joan said.

"But I do, my dear. I am simply famished," said Helen.

It was like a base betrayal, but she felt that she must help this
good-looking young man who looked at her so pleadingly.

"And it is always so much nicer to have a gentleman escort, isn't it?"

"You can't refuse now, Joan," Hugh said.

Joan! The name suggested to Helen that Joan had not spoken quite the
truth when she had told General Bartholomew that she and this man were
practically strangers. A strange man does not usually call a young girl
by her Christian name.

"As you like," Joan said indifferently. She looked at Hugh resentfully.

"I do not consider it is either very clever or very considerate," she
said in a low voice, intended for him alone.

"I am sorry