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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Patricia Brent, Spinster, by Herbert Jenkins
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Patricia Brent, Spinster
+
+Author: Herbert Jenkins
+
+Release Date: August 5, 2010 [EBook #33353]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PATRICIA BRENT, SPINSTER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Al Haines
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+PATRICIA BRENT, SPINSTER
+
+
+
+BY
+
+HERBERT JENKINS
+
+
+
+
+HERBERT JENKINS LIMITED
+
+3 YORK STREET, LONDON S.W.1
+
+1918
+
+
+
+
+  A
+  HERBERT
+  JENKINS'
+  BOOK
+
+
+_Fifteenth printing completing 153,658 copies_
+
+
+MADE AND PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY
+
+PURNELL AND SONS, PAULTON (SOMERSET) AND LONDON
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+CHAPTER
+
+     I.  PATRICIA'S INDISCRETION
+    II.  THE BONSOR-TRIGGS' MENAGE
+   III.  THE ADVENTURE AT THE QUADRANT GRILL-ROOM
+    IV.  THE MADNESS OF LORD PETER BOWEN
+     V.  PATRICIA'S REVENGE
+    VI.  THE INTERVENTION OF AUNT ADELAIDE
+   VII.  LORD PETER PROMISES A SOLUTION
+  VIII.  LORD PETER'S S.O.S.
+    IX.  LADY TANAGRA TAKES A HAND
+     X.  MISS BRENT'S STRATEGY
+    XI.  THE DEFECTION OF MR. TRIGGS
+   XII.  A BOMBSHELL
+  XIII.  A TACTICAL BLUNDER
+   XIV.  GALVIN HOUSE MEETS A LORD
+    XV.  MR. TRIGGS TAKES TEA IN KENSINGTON GARDENS
+   XVI.  PATRICIA'S INCONSTANCY
+  XVII.  LADY PEGGY MAKES A FRIEND
+ XVIII.  THE AIR RAID
+   XIX.  GALVIN HOUSE AFTER THE RAID
+    XX.  A RACE WITH SPINSTERHOOD
+   XXI.  THE GREATEST INDISCRETION
+
+
+
+
+WHAT THIS STORY IS ABOUT
+
+Patricia Brent is a "paying guest" at the Galvin House Residential
+Hotel.  One day she overhears two of her fellow "guests" pitying her
+because she "never has a nice young man to take her out."
+
+In a thoughtless moment of anger she announced that on the following
+night she is dining at the Quadrant with her fiancé.  When in due
+course she enters the grill-room, she finds some of Galvin Houseites
+there to watch her.  Rendered reckless by the thought of the
+humiliation of being found out, she goes up to a young staff-officer,
+and asks him to help her by "playing up."
+
+This is how she meets Lt.-Col. Lord Peter Bowen, D.S.O.  The story is a
+comedy concerned with the complications that ensue from Patricia's
+thoughtless act.
+
+
+
+
+PATRICIA BRENT, SPINSTER
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+PATRICIA'S INDISCRETION
+
+"She never has anyone to take her out, and goes nowhere, and yet she
+can't be more than twenty-seven, and really she's not bad-looking."
+
+"It's not looks that attract men," there was a note of finality in the
+voice; "it's something else."  The speaker snapped off her words in a
+tone that marked extreme disapproval.
+
+"What else?" enquired the other voice.
+
+"Oh, it's--well, it's something not quite nice," replied the other
+voice darkly, "the French call it being _très femme_.  However, she
+hasn't got it."
+
+"Well, I feel very sorry for her and her loneliness.  I am sure she
+would be much happier if she had a nice young man of her own class to
+take her about."
+
+Patricia Brent listened with flaming cheeks.  She felt as if someone
+had struck her.  She recognised herself as the object of the speakers'
+comments.  She could not laugh at the words, because they were true.
+She _was_ lonely, she had no men friends to take her about, and yet,
+and yet----
+
+"Twenty-seven," she muttered indignantly, "and I was only twenty-four
+last November."
+
+She identified the two speakers as Miss Elizabeth Wangle and Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe.
+
+Miss Wangle was the great-niece of a bishop, and to have a bishop in
+heaven is a great social asset on earth.  This ecclesiastical
+distinction seemed to give her the right of leadership at the Galvin
+House Residential Hotel.  Whenever a new boarder arrived, the
+unfortunate bishop was disinterred and brandished before his eyes.
+
+One facetious young man in the "commercial line" had dubbed her "the
+body-snatcher," and, being inordinately proud of his _jeu d'esprit_, he
+had worn it threadbare, and Miss Wangle had got to know of it.  The
+result was the sudden departure of the wit.  Miss Wangle had intimated
+to Mrs. Craske-Morton, the proprietress, that if he remained she would
+go.  Mrs. Craske-Morton considered that Miss Wangle gave tone to Galvin
+House.
+
+Miss Wangle was acid of speech and barren of pity.  Scandal and "the
+dear bishop" were her chief preoccupations.  She regularly read _The
+Morning Post_, which she bought, and _The Times_, which she borrowed.
+In her attitude towards royalty she was a Jacobite, and of the
+aristocracy she knew no wrong.
+
+Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe was Miss Wangle's toady; but she wrapped her venom
+in Christian charity, thus making herself the more dangerous of the two.
+
+At Galvin House none dare gainsay these two in their pronouncements.
+They were disliked; but more feared than hated.  During the Zeppelin
+scare Mr. Bolton, who was the humorist of Galvin House, had fixed a
+notice to the drawing-room door, which read: "Zeppelin commanders are
+requested to confine their attentions to rooms 8 and 18."  Rooms 8 and
+18 were those occupied by Miss Wangle and Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe.  There
+had been a great fuss about this harmless and rather feeble joke; but
+fortunately for Mr. Bolton, he had taken care to pin his jest on the
+door when no one was looking, and he took the additional precaution of
+being foremost in his denunciation of the bad taste shown by the person
+responsible for the jest.
+
+Patricia Brent was coming downstairs in response to the dinner-gong,
+when, through the partly open door of the lounge, she overheard the
+amiable remarks concerning herself.  She passed quietly into the
+dining-room and took her seat at the table in silence, mechanically
+acknowledging the greetings of her fellow-guests.
+
+At Galvin House the word "guest" was insisted upon.  Mrs.
+Craske-Morton, in announcing the advent of a new arrival, reached the
+pinnacle of refinement.  "We have another guest coming," she would say,
+"a most interesting man," or "a very cultured woman," as the case might
+be.  When the man arrived without his interest, or the woman without
+her culture, no one was disappointed; for no one had expected anything.
+The conventions had been observed and that was all that mattered.
+
+Dinner at Galvin House was rather a dismal affair.  The separate tables
+heresy, advocated by a progressive-minded guest, had been once and for
+all discouraged by Miss Wangle, who announced that if separate tables
+were introduced she, for one, would not stay.
+
+"I remember the dear bishop once saying to me," she remarked, "'My
+dear, if people can't say what they have to say at a large table and in
+the hearing of others, then let it for ever remain unsaid.'"
+
+"But if someone's dress is awry, or their hair is not on straight,
+would you announce the fact to the whole table?" Patricia had
+questioned with an innocence that was a little overdone.
+
+Miss Wangle had glared; for she wore the most obvious auburn wig, which
+failed to convince anyone, and served only to enhance the pallor of her
+sharp features.
+
+In consequence of the table arrangements, conversation during
+meal-times was general--and dull.  Mr. Bolton joked, Miss Wangle poured
+vinegar on oily waters, Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe "dripped with the oil of
+forbearance."  Mr. Cordal ate noisily, Miss Sikkum simpered and Mrs.
+Craske-Morton strove to appear a real hostess entertaining real guests
+without the damning prefix "paying."
+
+The remaining guests, there were usually round about twenty-five,
+looked as they felt they ought to look, and never failed to show a
+befitting reverence for Miss Wangle's ecclesiastical relic; for it was
+Miss Wangle who issued the social birth certificates at Galvin House.
+
+That evening Patricia was silent.  Mr. Bolton endeavoured to draw her
+out, but failed.  As a rule she was the first to laugh at his jokes in
+order "to encourage the poor little man," as she expressed it; "for a
+man who is fat and bald and a bachelor and thinks he's a humorist wants
+all the pity that the world can lavish upon him."
+
+Patricia glanced round the table, from Miss Wangle, lean as a winter
+wolf, to Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe, fair, chubby and faded, and on to Mr.
+Cordal, lantern-jawed and ravenous.  "Were they not all lonely--the
+left of God?" Patricia asked herself; and yet two of these solitary
+souls had dared to pity her, Patricia Brent.  At least she had
+something they did not possess--youth.
+
+The more she thought of the words that had drifted to her through the
+half-closed door of the lounge, the more humiliating they appeared.
+Her day had been particularly trying and she was tired.  She was in a
+mood to see a cyclone in a zephyr, and in a ripple a gigantic wave.
+She looked about her once more.  What a fate to be cast among such
+people!
+
+The table appointments seemed more than usually irritating that
+evening.  The base metal that peeped slyly through the silver of the
+forks and spoons, the tapering knives, victims of much cleaning, with
+their yellow handles, the salt-cellars, the mustard, browning with
+three days' age (mustard was replenished on Sundays only), the anæmic
+ferns in "artistic" pots, every defect seemed emphasized.
+
+How she hated it; but most of all the many-shaped and multi-coloured
+napkin-rings, at Galvin House known as "serviette-rings."  Variety was
+necessary to ensure each guest's personal interest in one particular
+napkin.  Did they ever get mixed?  Patricia shuddered at the thought.
+At the end of the week, a "serviette" had become a sort of gastronomic
+diary.  By Saturday evening (new "serviettes" were served out on Sunday
+at luncheon) the square of grey-white fabric had many things recorded
+upon it; but above all, like a monarch dominating his subjects, was the
+ineradicable aroma of Monday's kipper.
+
+On this particular evening Galvin House seemed more than ever grey and
+depressing.  Patricia found herself wondering if God had really made
+all these people in His own image.  They seemed so petty, so ungodlike.
+The way they regarded their food, as it was handed to them, suggested
+that they were for ever engaged in a comparison of what they paid with
+what they received.  Did God make people in His own image and then
+leave the rest to them?  Was that where free will came in?
+
+"----lonely!"
+
+The word seemed to crash in upon her thoughts with explosive force.
+Someone had used it--whom she did not know, or in what relation.  It
+brought her back to earth and Galvin House.  "Lonely," that was at the
+root of her depression.  She was an object of pity among her
+fellow-boarders.  It was intolerable!  She understood why girls "did
+things" to escape from such surroundings and such fox-pity.
+
+Had she been a domestic servant she could have hired a soldier, that is
+before the war.  Had she been a typist or a shop-girl--well, there were
+the park and tubes and things where gallant youth approached fair
+maiden.  No, she was just a girl who could not do these things, and in
+consequence became the pitied of the Miss Wangles and the Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythes of Bayswater.
+
+She was quite content to be manless, she did not like men, at least not
+the sort she had encountered.  There were Boltons and Cordals in
+plenty.  There were the "Haven't-we-met-before?" kind too, the hunters
+who seemed cheerfully to get out at the wrong station, or pay twopence
+on a bus for a penny fare in order to pursue some face that had
+attracted their roving eye.
+
+She sighed involuntarily at the ugliness of it all, this cheapening of
+the things worthy of reverence and respect.  She looked across at Miss
+Sikkum, whose short skirts and floppy hats had involved her in many
+unconventional adventures that one glance at her face had corrected as
+if by magic.  A back view of Miss Sikkum was deceptive.
+
+Suddenly Patricia made a resolve.  Had she paused to think she would
+have seen the danger; but she was by nature impulsive, and the
+conversation she had overheard had angered and humiliated her.
+
+Her resolve synchronised with the arrival of the sweet stage.  Turning
+to Mrs. Craske-Morton she remarked casually, "I shall not be in to
+dinner to-morrow night, Mrs. Morton."
+
+Mrs. Craske-Morton always liked her guests to tell her when they were
+not likely to be in to dinner.  "It saves the servants laying an extra
+cover," she would explain.  As a matter of fact it saved Mrs.
+Craske-Morton preparing for an extra mouth.
+
+If Patricia had hurled a bomb into the middle of the dining-table, she
+could not have attracted to herself more attention than by her simple
+remark that she was not dining at Galvin House on the morrow.
+
+Everybody stopped eating to stare at her.  Miss Sikkum missed her aim
+with a trifle of apple charlotte, and spent the rest of the evening in
+endeavouring to remove the stain from a pale blue satin blouse, which
+in Brixton is known as "a Paris model."  It was Miss Wangle who broke
+the silence.
+
+"How interesting," she said.  "We shall quite miss you, Miss Brent.  I
+suppose you are working late."
+
+The whole table waited for Patricia's response with breathless
+expectancy.
+
+"No!" she replied nonchalantly.
+
+"I know," said Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe, in her even tones, and wagging an
+admonitory finger at her.  "You're going to a revue, or a music-hall."
+
+"Or to sow her wild oats," added Mr. Bolton.
+
+Then some devil took possession of Patricia.  She would give them
+something to talk about for the next month.  They should have a shock.
+
+"No," she replied indifferently, attracting to herself the attention of
+the whole table by her deliberation.  "No, I'm not going to a revue, a
+music-hall, or to sow my wild oats.  As a matter of fact," she paused.
+They literally hung upon her words.  "As a matter of fact I am dining
+with my fiancé."
+
+The effect was electrical.  Miss Sikkum stopped dabbing the front of
+her Brixton "Paris model."  Miss Wangle dropped her pince-nez on the
+edge of her plate and broke the right-hand glass.  Mr. Cordal, a heavy
+man who seldom spoke, but enjoyed his food with noisy gusto, actually
+exclaimed, "What?"  Almost without exception the others repeated his
+exclamation.
+
+"Your fiancé?" stuttered Miss Wangle.
+
+"But, dear Miss Brent," said Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe, "you never told us
+that you were engaged."
+
+"Didn't I?" enquired Patricia indifferently.
+
+"And you don't wear a ring," interposed Miss Sikkum eagerly.
+
+"I hate badges of servitude," remarked Patricia with a laugh.
+
+"But an engagement ring," insinuated Miss Sikkum with a self-conscious
+giggle.
+
+"One is freer without a ring," replied Patricia.
+
+Miss Wangle's jaw dropped.
+
+"Marriages are----" she began.
+
+"Made in heaven.  I know," broke in Patricia, "but you try wearing
+Turkish slippers in London, Miss Wangle, and you'll soon want to go
+back to the English boots.  It's silly to make things in one place to
+be worn in another; they never fit."
+
+Mrs. Craske-Morton coughed portentously.
+
+"Really, Miss Brent," she exclaimed.
+
+Whenever conversation seemed likely to take an undesirable turn, or she
+foresaw a storm threatening, Mrs. Craske-Morton's "Really, Mr.
+So-and-so" invariably guided it back into a safe channel.
+
+"But do they?" persisted Patricia.  "Can you, Mrs. Morton, seriously
+regard marriage in this country as a success?  It's all because
+marriages are made in heaven without taking into consideration our
+climatic conditions."
+
+Miss Wangle had lost the power of speech.  Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe was
+staring at Patricia as if she had been something strange and unclean
+upon which her eyes had never hitherto lighted.  In the eyes of little
+Mrs. Hamilton, a delightfully French type of old lady, there was a
+gleam of amusement.  Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe was the first to recover the
+power of speech.
+
+"Is your fiancé in the army?"
+
+"Yes," replied Patricia desperately.  She had long since thrown over
+all caution.
+
+"Oh, tell us his name," giggled Miss Sikkum.
+
+"Brown," said Patricia.
+
+"Is his knapsack number 99?" enquired Mr. Bolton.
+
+"He doesn't wear one," said Patricia, now thoroughly enjoying herself.
+
+"Oh, he's an officer, then," this from Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe.
+
+"Is he a first or a second lieutenant?" enquired Mrs. Craske-Morton.
+
+"Major," responded Patricia laconically.
+
+"What's he in?" was the next question.
+
+"West Loamshires."
+
+"What battalion?" enquired Miss Wangle, who had now regained the power
+of speech.  "I have a cousin in the Fifth."
+
+"I am sure I can't remember," said Patricia, "I never could remember
+numbers."
+
+"Not remember the number of the battalion in which your fiancé is?"
+There was incredulous disapproval in Miss Wangle's voice.
+
+"No!  I'm awfully sorry," replied Patricia, "I suppose it's very horrid
+of me; but I'll go upstairs and look it up if you like."
+
+"Oh please don't trouble," said Miss Wangle icily.  "I remember the
+dear bishop once saying----"
+
+"And I suppose after dinner you'll go to a theatre," interrupted Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe, for the first time in the memory of the oldest guest
+indifferent to the bishop and what he had said, thought, or done.
+
+"Oh, no, it's war time," said Patricia, "we shall just dine quietly at
+the Quadrant Grill-room."
+
+A meaning glance passed between Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe and Miss Wangle.
+Why she had fixed upon the Quadrant Grill-room Patricia could not have
+said.
+
+"And now," said Patricia, "I must run upstairs and see that my best bib
+and tucker are in proper condition to be worn before my fiancé.  I'll
+tell him what you say about the ring.  Good night, everybody, if we
+don't meet again."
+
+
+"Patricia Brent," admonished Patricia to her reflection in the
+looking-glass, as she brushed her hair that night, "you're a most
+unmitigated little liar.  You've told those people the wickedest of
+wicked lies.  You've engaged yourself to an unknown major in the
+British Army.  You're going to dine with him to-morrow night, and
+heaven knows what will be the result of it all.  A single lie leads to
+so many.  Oh, Patricia, Patricia!" she nodded her head admonishingly at
+the reflection in the glass.  "You're really a very wicked young
+woman."  Then she burst out laughing.  "At least, I have given them
+something to talk about, any old how.  By now they've probably come to
+the conclusion that I'm a most awful rip."
+
+Patricia never confessed it to herself, but she was extremely lonely.
+Instinctively shy of strangers, she endeavoured to cover up her
+self-consciousness by assuming an attitude of nonchalance, and the
+result was that people saw only the artificiality.  She had been
+brought up in the school of "men are beasts," and she took no trouble
+to disguise her indifference to them.  With women she was more popular.
+If anyone were ill at Galvin House, it was always Patricia Brent who
+ministered to them, sat and read to them, and cheered them through
+convalescence back to health.
+
+Her acquaintance with men had been almost entirely limited to those she
+had found in the various boarding-houses, glorified in the name of
+residential hotels, at which she had stayed.  Five years previously, on
+the death of her father, a lawyer in a small country town, she had come
+to London and obtained a post as secretary to a blossoming politician.
+There she had made herself invaluable, and there she had stayed,
+performing the same tasks day after day, seldom going out, since the
+war never at all, and living a life calculated to make an acid spinster
+of a Venus or a Juno.
+
+"Oh, bother to-morrow!" said Patricia as she got into bed that night;
+"it's a long way off and perhaps something will happen before then,"
+and with that she switched off the light.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE BONSOR-TRIGGS' MENAGE
+
+The next morning Patricia awakened with a feeling that something had
+occurred in her life.  For a time she lay pondering as to what it could
+be.  Suddenly memory came with a flash, and she smiled.  That night she
+was dining out!  As suddenly as it had come the smile faded from her
+lips and eyes, and she mentally apostrophised herself as a little idiot
+for what she had done.  Then, remembering Miss Wangle's remark and the
+expression on Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe's face, the lines of her mouth
+hardened, and there was a determined air about the tilt of her chin.
+She smiled again.
+
+"Patricia Brent!  No, that won't do," she broke off.  Then springing
+out of bed she went over to the mirror, adjusted the dainty boudoir cap
+upon her head and, bowing elaborately to her reflection, said,
+"Patricia Brent, I invite you to dine with me this evening at the
+Quadrant Grill-room.  I hope you'll be able to come.  How delightful.
+We shall have a most charming time."  Then she sat on the edge of the
+bed and pondered.
+
+Of course she would have to come back radiantly happy, girls who have
+been out with their fiancé's always return radiantly happy.  "That will
+mean two _crèmes de menthes_ instead of one, that's another shilling,
+perhaps two," she murmured.  Then she must have a good dinner or else
+the _crème de menthe_ would get into her head, that would mean about
+seven shillings more.  "Oh!  Patricia, Patricia," she wailed, "you have
+let yourself in for an expense of at least ten shillings, the point
+being is a major in the British Army worth an expenditure of ten
+shillings?  We shall----"
+
+She was interrupted by the maid knocking at the door to inform her that
+it was her turn for the bath-room.
+
+As Patricia walked across the Park that morning on her way to Eaton
+Square, where the politician lived who employed her as private
+secretary whilst he was in the process of rising, she pondered over her
+last night's announcement.  She was convinced that she had acted
+foolishly, and in a way that would probably involve her in not only
+expense, but some trouble and inconvenience.
+
+At the breakfast-table the conversation had been entirely devoted to
+herself, her fiancé, and the coming dinner together.  Miss Wangle, Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe, and Miss Sikkum, supported by Mrs. Craske-Morton, had
+returned to the charge time after time.  Patricia had taken refuge in
+her habitual breakfast silence and, finding that they could draw
+nothing from her her fellow-guests had proceeded to discuss the matter
+among themselves.  It was with a feeling of relief that Patricia rose
+from the table.
+
+There was an east wind blowing, and Patricia had always felt that an
+east wind made her a materialist.  This morning she was depressed;
+there was in her heart a feeling that fate had not been altogether kind
+to her.  Her childhood had been spent in a small town on the East Coast
+under the care of her father's sister who, when Mrs. Brent died, had
+come to keep house for Mr. John Brent and take care of his
+five-year-old daughter.  In her aunt Patricia found a woman soured by
+life.  What it was that had soured her Patricia could never gather; but
+Aunt Adelaide was for ever emphasizing the fact that men were beasts.
+
+Later Patricia saw in her aunt a disappointed woman.  She could
+remember as a child examining with great care her aunt's hard features
+and angular body, and wondering if she had ever been pretty, and if
+anyone had kissed her because they wanted to and not because it was
+expected of them.
+
+The lack of sympathy between aunt and niece had driven Patricia more
+and more to seek her father's companionship.  He was a silent man,
+little given to emotion or demonstration of affection.  He loved
+Patricia, but lacked the faculty of conveying to her the knowledge of
+his love.
+
+As she walked across the Park Patricia came to the conclusion that, for
+some reason or other, love, or the outward visible signs of love, had
+been denied her.  Warm-hearted, impetuous, spontaneous, she had been
+chilled by the self-repression of her father, and the lack of affection
+of her aunt.  She had been schooled to regard God as the God of
+punishment rather than the God of love.  One of her most terrifying
+recollections was that of the Sundays spent under the paternal roof.
+To her father, religion counted for nothing; but to her aunt it counted
+for everything in the world; the hereafter was to be the compensation
+for renunciation in this world.  Miss Brent's attitude towards prayer
+was that of one who regards it as a means by which she is able to
+convey to the Almighty what she expects of Him in the next world as a
+reward for what she has done, or rather not done, in this.
+
+Patricia had once asked, in a childish moment of speculation, "But,
+Aunt Adelaide, suppose God doesn't make us happy in the next world,
+what shall we do then?"
+
+"Oh! yes He will," was her aunt's reply, uttered with such grimness
+that Patricia, though only six years of age, had been satisfied that
+not even God would dare to disappoint Aunt Adelaide.
+
+Patricia had been a lonely child.  She had come to distrust spontaneity
+and, in consequence, became shy and self-conscious, with the inevitable
+result that other children, the few who were in Aunt Adelaide's opinion
+fit for her to associate with, made it obvious that she was one by
+herself.  Patricia had fallen back on her father's library, where she
+had read many books that would have caused her aunt agonies of stormy
+anguish, had she known.
+
+Patricia early learnt the necessity for dissimulation.  She always
+carefully selected two books, one that she could ostensibly be reading
+if her aunt happened to come into the library, and the other that she
+herself wanted to read, and of which she knew her aunt would strongly
+disapprove.
+
+Miss Brent regarded boarding-schools as "hotbeds of vice," and in
+consequence Patricia was educated at home, educated in a way that she
+would never have been at any school; for Miss Brent was thorough in
+everything she undertook.  The one thing for which Patricia had to be
+grateful to her aunt was her general knowledge, and the sane methods
+adopted with her education.  But for this she would not have been in
+the position to accept a secretaryship to a politician.
+
+When Patricia was twenty-one her father had died, and she inherited
+from her mother an annuity of a hundred pounds a year.  Her aunt had
+suggested that they should live together; but Patricia had announced
+her intention of working, and with the money that she realised from the
+sale of her father's effects, particularly his library, she came to
+London and underwent a course of training in shorthand, typewriting,
+and general secretarial work.  This was in March, 1914.  Before she was
+ready to undertake a post, the war broke out upon Europe like a
+cataclysm, and a few months later Patricia had obtained a post as
+private secretary to Mr. Arthur Bonsor, M.P.
+
+Mr. Bonsor was the victim of marriage.  Destiny had ordained that he
+should spend his life in golf and gardening, or in breeding earless
+rabbits and stingless bees.  He was bucolic and passive.  Mrs. Bonsor,
+however, after a slight altercation with Destiny, had decided that Mr.
+Bonsor was to become a rising politician.  Thus it came about that,
+pushed on from behind by Mrs. Bonsor and led by Patricia, whose general
+knowledge was of the greatest possible assistance to him, Mr. Bonsor
+was in the elaborate process of rising at the time when Patricia
+determined to have a fiancé.
+
+Mr. Bonsor was a small, fair-haired man, prematurely bald, an
+indifferent speaker; but excellent in committee.  Instinctively he was
+gentle and kind.  Mrs. Bonsor disliked Patricia and Patricia was
+indifferent to Mrs. Bonsor.  Mrs. Bonsor, however, recognised that in
+Patricia her husband had a remarkably good secretary, one whom it would
+be difficult to replace.
+
+Mrs. Bonsor's attitude to everyone who was not in a superior position
+to herself was one of patronage.  Patricia she looked upon as an upper
+servant, although she never dare show it.  Patricia, on the other hand,
+showed very clearly that she had no intention of being treated other
+than as an equal by Mrs. Bonsor, and the result was a sort of armed
+neutrality.  They seldom met; when by chance they encountered each
+other in the house Mrs. Bonsor would say, "Good morning, Miss Brent; I
+hope you walked across the Park."  Patricia would reply, "Yes, most
+enjoyable; I invariably walk across the Park when I have time"; and
+with a forced smile Mrs. Bonsor would say, "That is very wise of you."
+
+Never did Mrs. Bonsor speak to Patricia without enquiring if she had
+walked across the Park.  One day Patricia anticipated Mrs. Bonsor's
+inevitable question by announcing, "I walked across the Park this
+morning, Mrs. Bonsor, it was most delightful," and Mrs. Bonsor had
+glared at her, but, remembering Patricia's value to her husband, had
+made a non-committal reply and passed on.  Henceforth, Mrs. Bonsor
+dropped all reference to the Park.
+
+On the first day of Patricia's entry into the Bonsor household, Mrs.
+Bonsor had remarked, "Of course you will stay to lunch," and Patricia
+had thanked her and said she would.  But when she found that her
+luncheon was served on a tray in the library, where Mr. Bonsor did his
+work, she had decided that henceforth exercise in the middle of the day
+was necessary for her, and she lunched out.
+
+Mr. Bonsor had married beneath him.  His father, a land-poor squire in
+the north of England, had impressed upon all his sons that money was
+essential as a matrimonial asset, and Mr. Bonsor, not having sufficient
+individuality to starve for love, had determined to follow the parental
+decree.  How he met Miss Triggs, the daughter of the prosperous
+Streatham builder and contractor, Samuel Triggs, nobody knew, but his
+father had congratulated him very cordially about having contrived to
+marry her.  Miss Triggs's friends to a woman were of the firm
+conviction that it was Miss Triggs who had married Mr. Bonsor.
+"'Ettie's so ambitious."  remarked her father soon after the wedding,
+"that it's almost a relief to get 'er married."
+
+Mr. Bonsor was scarcely back from his honeymoon before he was in full
+possession of the fact that Mrs. Bonsor had determined that he should
+become famous.  She had read how helpful many great men's wives had
+been in their career, and she determined to be the power behind the
+indeterminate Arthur Bonsor.  Poor Mr. Bonsor, who desired nothing
+better than a peaceable life and had looked forward to a future of ease
+and prosperity when he married Miss Triggs, discovered when too late
+that he had married not so much Miss Triggs, as an abstract sense of
+ambition.  Domestic peace was to be purchased only by an attitude of
+entire submission to Mrs. Bonsor's schemes.  He was not without brains,
+but he lacked that impetus necessary to "getting on."  Mrs. Bonsor, who
+was not lacking in shrewdness, observed this and determined that she
+herself would be the impetus.
+
+Mr. Bonsor came to dread meal-times, that is meal-times _tête-à-tête_.
+During these symposiums he was subjected to an elaborate
+cross-examination as to what he was doing to achieve greatness.  Mrs.
+Bonsor insisted upon his being present at every important function to
+which he could gain admittance, particularly the funerals of the
+illustrious great.  Egged on by her he became an inveterate writer of
+letters to the newspapers, particularly _The Times_.  Sometimes his
+letters appeared, which caused Mrs. Bonsor intense gratification: but
+editors soon became shy of a man who bombarded them with letters upon
+every conceivable subject, from the submarine menace to the question of
+"should women wear last year's frocks?"
+
+Mr. Triggs had once described his daughter very happily: "'Ettie's one
+of them that ain't content with pressing a bell, but she must keep 'er
+thumb on the bell-push."  That was Mrs. Bonsor all over; she lacked
+restraint, both physical and artistic, and she conceived that if you
+only make noise enough people will, sooner or later, begin to take
+notice.
+
+Within three years of his marriage, Mr. Bonsor entered the House of
+Commons.  He had first of all fought in a Radical constituency and been
+badly beaten; but the second time he had, by some curious juggling of
+chance, been successful in an almost equally strong Radical division,
+much to the delight of Mrs. Bonsor.  The success had been largely due
+to her idea of flooding the constituency with pretty girl-canvassers;
+but she had been very careful to keep a watchful eye on Mr. Bonsor.
+
+One of her reasons for engaging Patricia, for really Mrs. Bonsor was
+responsible for the engagement, had been that she had decided that
+Patricia was indifferent to men, and she decided that Mr. Bonsor might
+safely be trusted with Patricia Brent for long periods of secretarial
+communion.
+
+Mr. Bonsor, although not lacking in susceptibility, was entirely devoid
+of that courage which subjugates the feminine heart.  Once he had
+permitted his hand to rest upon Patricia's; but he never forgot the
+look she gave him and, for weeks after, he felt a most awful dog, and
+wondered if Patricia would tell Mrs. Bonsor.
+
+When she married, Mrs. Bonsor saw that it would be necessary to drop
+her family, that is as far as practicable.  It could not be done
+entirely, because her father was responsible for the allowance which
+made it possible for the Bonsors to live in Eaton Square.  The old man
+was not lacking in shrewdness, and he had no intention of being thrown
+overboard by his ambitious daughter.  It occasionally happened that Mr.
+Triggs would descend upon the Bonsor household and, although Mrs.
+Bonsor did her best to suppress him, that is without in any way showing
+she was ashamed of her parent, he managed to make Patricia's
+acquaintance and, from that time, made a practice of enquiring for and
+having a chat with her.
+
+Mrs. Bonsor was grateful to providence for having removed her mother
+previous to her marriage.  Mrs. Triggs had been a homely soul, with a
+marked inclination to be "friendly."  She overflowed with good-humour,
+and was a woman who would always talk in an omnibus, or join a wedding
+crowd and compare notes with those about her.  She addressed Mr. Triggs
+as "Pa," which caused her daughter a mental anguish of which Mrs.
+Triggs was entirely unaware.  It was not until Miss Triggs was almost
+out of her teens that her mother was persuaded to cease calling her
+"Girlie."
+
+In Mrs. Bonsor the reforming spirit was deeply ingrained; but she had
+long since despaired of being able to influence her father's taste in
+dress.  She groaned in spirit each time she saw him, for his sartorial
+ideas were not those of Mayfair.  He leaned towards checks, rather loud
+checks, trousers that were tight about the calf, and a coat that was a
+sporting conception of the morning coat, with a large flapped pocket on
+either side.  He invariably wore a red tie and an enormous watch-chain
+across his prosperous-looking figure.  His hat was a high felt, an
+affair that seemed to have set out in life with the ambition of being a
+top hat, but losing heart had compromised.
+
+If Mrs. Bonsor dreaded her father's visits, Patricia welcomed them.
+She was genuinely fond of the old man.  Mr. Triggs radiated happiness
+from the top of his shiny bald head, with its fringe of sandy-grey
+hair, to his square-toed boots that invariably emitted little squeaks
+of joy.  He wore a fringe of whiskers round his chubby face, otherwise
+he was clean-shaven, holding that beards were "messy" things.  He had
+what Patricia called "crinkly" eyes, that is to say each time he smiled
+there seemed to radiate from them hundreds of little lines.
+
+He always addressed Patricia as "me dear," and not infrequently brought
+her a box of chocolates, to the scandal of Mrs. Bonsor, who had once
+expostulated with him that that was not the way to treat her husband's
+secretary.
+
+"Tut, tut, 'Ettie," had been Mr. Triggs's response.  "She's a fine gal.
+If I was a bit younger I shouldn't be surprised if there was a second
+Mrs. Triggs."
+
+"Father!" Mrs. Bonsor had expostulated in horror.  "Remember that she
+is Arthur's secretary."
+
+Mr. Triggs had almost choked with laughter; mirth invariably seemed to
+interfere with his respiration and ended in violent and wheezy
+coughings and gaspings.  Had Mrs. Bonsor known that he repeated the
+conversation to Patricia, she would have been mortified almost to the
+point of discharging her husband's secretary.
+
+"You see, me dear," Mr. Triggs had once said to Patricia, "'Ettie's so
+busy bothering about aitches that she's got time for nothing else.  She
+ain't exactly proud of her old father," he had added shrewdly, "but she
+finds 'is brass a bit useful."  Mr. Triggs was under no delusion as to
+his daughter's attitude towards him.
+
+One day he had asked Patricia rather suddenly, "Why don't you get
+married, me dear?"
+
+Patricia had started and looked up at him quickly.  "Married, me, Mr.
+Triggs?  Oh!  I suppose for one thing nobody wants me, and for another
+I'm not in love."
+
+Mr. Triggs had pondered a little over this.
+
+"That's right, me dear!" he said at length.  "Never you marry except
+you feel you can't 'elp it, then you'll know it's the right one.  Don't
+you marry a chap because he's got a lot of brass.  You marry for the
+same reason that me and my missis married, because we felt we couldn't
+do without each other," and the old man's voice grew husky.  "You
+wouldn't believe it, me dear, 'ow I miss 'er, though she's been dead
+eight years next May."
+
+Patricia had been deeply touched and, not knowing what to say, had
+stretched out her hand to the old man, who took and held it for a
+moment in his.  As she drew her hand away she felt a tear splash upon
+it, and it was not her own.
+
+"Ever hear that song 'My Old Dutch'?" he asked after a lengthy silence.
+
+Patricia nodded.
+
+"I used to sing it to 'er--God bless my soul! what an old fool I'm
+gettin', talkin' to you in this way.  Now I must be gettin' off.  Lor!
+what would 'Ettie say if she knew?"
+
+But Mrs. Bonsor did not know.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE ADVENTURE AT THE QUADRANT GRILL-ROOM
+
+That evening as Patricia looked in at the lounge on the way to her
+room, she found it unusually crowded.  On a normal day her appearance
+would scarcely have been noticed; but this evening it was the signal
+for a sudden cessation in the buzz of conversation, and all eyes were
+upon her.  For a moment she stood in the doorway and then, with a nod
+and a smile, she turned and proceeded upstairs, conscious of the
+whispering that broke out as soon as her back was turned.
+
+As she stood before the mirror, wondering what she should wear for the
+night's adventure, she recalled a remark of Miss Wangle's that no
+really nice-minded woman ever dressed in black and white unless she had
+some ulterior motive.  Upon the subject of sex-attraction Miss Wangle
+posed as an authority, and hinted darkly at things that thrilled Miss
+Sikkum to ecstatic giggles, and Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe to pianissimo
+moans of anguish that such things could be.
+
+With great deliberation Patricia selected a black charmeuse costume
+that Miss Wangle had already confided to the whole of Galvin House was
+at least two and a half inches too short; but as Patricia had explained
+to Mrs. Hamilton, if you possess exquisitely fitting patent boots that
+come high up the leg, it's a sin for the skirt to be too long.  She
+selected a black velvet hat with a large white water-lily on the upper
+brim.
+
+"You look bad enough for a vicar's daughter," she said, surveying
+herself in the glass as she fastened a bunch of red carnations in her
+belt.  "White at the wrists and on the hat, yes, it looks most
+improper.  I wonder what the major-man will think?"
+
+Swift movements, deft touches, earnest scrutiny followed one another.
+Patricia was an artist in dress.  Finally, when her gold wristlet watch
+had been fastened over a white glove she subjected herself to a final
+and exhaustive examination.
+
+"Now, Patricia!"--it had become with her a habit to address her
+reflection in the mirror--"shall we carry an umbrella, or shall we
+not?"  For a few moments she regarded herself quizzically, then finally
+announced, "No: we will not.  An umbrella suggests a bus, or the tube,
+and when a girl goes out with a major in the British Army, she goes in
+a taxi.  No, we will not carry an umbrella."
+
+She still lingered in front of the mirror, looking at herself with
+obvious approval.
+
+"Yes, Patricia! you are looking quite nice.  Your eyes are violeter,
+your hair more sunsetty and your lips redder than usual, and, yes, your
+face generally looks happier."
+
+When she entered the lounge it was twenty minutes to eight and,
+although dinner was at seven-thirty, the room was full.  Everybody
+stared at her as with flushed cheeks she walked to the centre of the
+room.  Then suddenly turning to Miss Wangle, she said, "Do you think I
+shall do, Miss Wangle, or do I look too wicked for a major?"
+
+Miss Wangle merely stared.  Mrs. Hamilton smiled and Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe looked sympathetically at Miss Wangle.  Mr. Bolton
+laughed.
+
+"I wish I was a major, Miss Brent," he remarked, at which Patricia
+turned to him and made an elaborate curtsy.
+
+"That girl will come to a bad end," remarked Miss Wangle with
+conviction to Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe, as with a smile over her shoulder
+Patricia made a dramatic exit.  She had noticed, however, that Miss
+Wangle and Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe were in hats and jackets.  They, too,
+were apparently going out, although she had not heard them tell Mrs.
+Craske-Morton so.  Mr. Bolton also had his hat in his hand.  During the
+day Patricia had thought out very carefully the part she had set
+herself to play.  If she were going to meet her fiancé back from the
+Front, she must appear radiantly happy, vide conventional opinion.  But
+she had admonished her reflection in the mirror, "You mustn't overdo
+it.  Women, especially tabbies, are very acute."
+
+It had been Patricia's intention to go by bus but at the entrance of
+the lounge she saw Gustave who ingratiatingly enquired, "Taxi, mees?"
+
+With a smile she nodded her head, and Gustave disappeared.  "There goes
+another two shillings.  Oh, bother Major Brown!  Soldiers are costly
+luxuries," she muttered under her breath.
+
+A moment after Gustave reappeared with the intimation that the taxi was
+at the door.  A group of her fellow-guests gathered in the hall to see
+her off.  Patricia thought their attitude more appropriate to a wedding
+than the fact that one of their fellow-boarders was going out to
+dinner.  "It is clear," she thought, "that Patricia Brent, man-catcher,
+is a much more important person than is Patricia Brent, inveterate
+spinster."
+
+She noticed that there was a second taxi at the door, and while her own
+driver was "winding-up" his machine, which took some little time, the
+other taxi got off in front.  She had seen get into it Miss Wangle,
+Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe, and Mr. Bolton.
+
+As the taxi sped eastward, Patricia began to speculate as to what she
+really intended doing.  She had no appointment, she was in a taxi which
+would cost her two shillings at least, and she had given the address of
+the Quadrant Grill-room.
+
+She was still considering what she should do when the taxi drew up.
+Fate and the taxi driver had decided the matter between them, and
+Patricia determined to go through with it and disappoint neither.
+Having paid the man and tipped him handsomely, she descended the stairs
+to the Grill-room.  She had no idea of what it cost to dine at the
+Quadrant; but remembered with a comfortable feeling that she had some
+two pounds upon her.  With moderation, she decided, it might be
+possible to get a meal for that sum without attracting the adverse
+criticism of the staff.  It had not struck her that it might appear
+strange for a girl to dine alone at such a restaurant as the Quadrant,
+and that she was laying herself open to criticism.  She was too excited
+at this new adventure into which she had been precipitated for careful
+reasoning.
+
+As she descended the stairs she caught a glimpse of herself in a
+mirror.  She started.  Surely that could not be Patricia Brent,
+secretary to a rising politician, that stylish-looking girl in black,
+with a large bunch of carnations.  That red-haired creature with
+sparkling eyes and a colour that seemed to have caught the reflection
+of the carnations in her belt!
+
+She entered the lounge at the foot of the stairs with increased
+confidence, and she was conscious that several men turned to look at
+her with interest.  Then suddenly the bottom fell out of her world.
+There, standing in the vestibule, were Miss Wangle, Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe, and Mr. Bolton.  In a flash she saw it all.  They had
+come to spy upon her.  They would find her out, and the whole
+humiliating story would probably have to be told.  Thoughts seemed to
+spurt through her mind.  What was she to do?  It was too late to
+retreat.  Miss Wangle had already fixed her with a stony stare through
+her lorgnettes, which she carried only on special occasions.
+
+Patricia was conscious of bowing and smiling sweetly.  Some
+sub-conscious power seemed to take possession of her.  Still wondering
+what she should do, she found herself walking head in the air and
+perfectly composed, in the direction of the Grill-room.  She was
+conscious of being followed by Miss Wangle and her party.  As Patricia
+rounded the glass screen a superintendent came up and enquired if she
+had a table.  She heard a voice that seemed like and yet unlike her own
+answer, "Yes, thank you," and she passed on looking from right to left
+as if in search of someone, unconscious of the many glances cast in her
+direction.
+
+When about half-way up the long room, just past the bandstand, the
+terrible thought came to her of a possible humiliating retreat.  What
+was she to do?  Why was she there?  What were her plans?  She looked
+about her, hoping that she did not appear so frightened as she felt.
+She was conscious of the gaze of a man seated at a table a few yards
+off.  He was fair and in khaki.  That was all she knew.  Yes, he was
+looking at her intently.
+
+"No, that table won't do!  It is too near to the band."  It was Miss
+Wangle's voice behind her.  Without a moment's hesitation her
+sub-conscious self once more took possession of Patricia, and she
+marched straight up to the fair-haired man in khaki and in a voice loud
+enough for Miss Wangle and her party to hear cried:
+
+"Hullo! so here you are, I thought I should never find you."  Then as
+he rose she murmured under her breath, "Please play up to me, I'm in an
+awful hole.  I'll explain presently."
+
+Without a moment's hesitation the man replied, "You're very late.  I
+waited for you a long time outside, then I gave you up."
+
+With a look of gratitude and a sigh of content, Patricia sank down into
+the chair a waiter had placed for her.  If there had been no chair, she
+would have fallen to the floor, her legs refusing further to support
+her body.  She was trembling all over.  Miss Wangle had selected the
+next table.  Patricia was conscious of hoping that somewhere in the
+next world Miss Wangle's sufferings would transcend those of Dives as a
+hundred to one.
+
+As she was pulling off her gloves her companion held a low-toned
+colloquy with the waiter.  She stole a glance at him.  What must he be
+thinking?  How had he classified her?  Her heart was pounding against
+her ribs as if determined to burst through.
+
+Suddenly she remembered that the others were watching and, leaning upon
+the table, she said:
+
+"Please pretend to be very pleased to see me.  We must talk a lot.  You
+know--you know--" then she turned aside in confusion; but with an
+effort she said, "You--you are supposed to be my fiancé, and you've
+just come back from France, and--and----  Oh! what are you thinking of
+me?  Please--please----" she broke off.
+
+Very gravely and with smiling eyes he replied, "I quite understand.
+Please don't worry.  Something has happened, and if I can do anything
+to help, you have only to tell me.  My name is Bowen, and I'm just back
+from France."
+
+"Are you a major?" enquired Patricia, to whom stars and crowns meant
+nothing.
+
+"I'm afraid I'm a lieutenant-colonel," he replied, "on the Staff."
+
+"Oh! what a pity," said Patricia, "I said you were a major."
+
+"Couldn't you say I've been promoted?"
+
+Patricia clapped her hands.  "Oh! how splendid!  Of course!  You see I
+said that you were Major Brown, I can easily tell them that they
+misunderstood and that it was Major Bowen.  They are such awful cats,
+and if they found out I should have to leave.  You see that's some of
+them at the next table there.  That's Miss Wangle with the lorgnettes
+and the other woman is Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe, who is her echo, and the
+man is Mr. Bolton.  He's nothing in particular."
+
+"I see," said Bowen.
+
+"And--and--of course you've got to pretend to be most awfully glad to
+see me.  You see we haven't met for a long time and--and--we're
+engaged."
+
+"I quite understand," was the reply.
+
+Then suddenly Patricia caught his eye and saw the smile in it.
+
+"Oh, how dreadful!" she cried.  "Of course you don't know anything
+about it.  I'm talking like a schoolgirl.  You see my name's Patricia,
+Patricia Brent," and then she plunged into the whole story, telling him
+frankly of her escapade.  He was strangely easy to talk to.
+
+"And--and--" she concluded, "what do you think of me?"
+
+"I think I'd sooner not tell you just now," he smiled.
+
+"Is it as bad as that," she enquired.
+
+Then suddenly the smile faded from his face and he leaned across to
+her, saying:
+
+"Miss Brent----"
+
+"I'm afraid you must call me Patricia," she interrupted with a comical
+look, "in case they overhear.  It seems rather sudden, doesn't it, and
+I shall have to call you----"
+
+"Peter," he said.  He had nice eyes Patricia decided.
+
+"Er--er--Peter," she made a dash at the name.
+
+Bowen sat back in his chair and laughed.  Miss Wangle fixed upon him a
+stare through her lorgnettes, not an unfavourable stare, she was
+greatly impressed by his rank and red tabs.
+
+After that the ice seemed broken and Patricia and her "fiancé" chatted
+merrily together, greatly impressing Patricia's fellow-boarders.
+
+Bowen was a good talker and a sympathetic listener and, above all, his
+attitude had in it that deference which put Patricia entirely at her
+ease.  She told him all there was to tell about herself and he, in
+return, explained that he came of an army family, and had been sent out
+to France soon after Mons.  He was then a captain in the Yeomanry.  He
+was wounded, promoted, and later received the D.S.O. and M.C.  He had
+now been brought back to England and attached to the General Staff.
+
+"Now I think you know all that is necessary to know about your fiancé,"
+he had concluded.
+
+Patricia laughed.  "Oh, by the way," she said, "you have never given me
+an engagement ring.  Please don't forget that.  They asked me where my
+ring was, and I told them I didn't care about rings, as they were
+badges of servitude.  You see it is quite possible that Miss Wangle
+will come over to us presently.  She's just that sort, and she might
+ask awkward questions, that is why I am telling you all about myself."
+
+"I'll remember," said Bowen.
+
+"I'm glad you're a D.S.O., though," she went on, half to herself,
+"that's sure to interest them, and it's nice to think you're more than
+a major.  Miss Wangle and Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe are most worldly-minded.
+Of course it would have been nicer had you been a field-marshal; but I
+suppose you couldn't be promoted from a major to a field-marshal in the
+course of a few days, could you?"
+
+"Well, it's not usual," he confessed.
+
+When the meal was over Bowen looked at his watch.
+
+"I'm afraid it's too late for a show, it's a quarter to ten."
+
+"A quarter to ten!" cried Patricia.  "How the time has flown.  I shall
+have to be going home."
+
+He noticed preparations for a move at the Wangle table.
+
+"Oh, please, don't hurry!  Let's go upstairs and sit and smoke for a
+little time."
+
+"Do you think I ought," enquired Patricia critically, her head on one
+side.
+
+"Well," replied Bowen, "I think that you might safely do so as we are
+engaged," and that settled it.
+
+They went upstairs, and it was a quarter to eleven before Patricia
+finally decided that she must make a move.
+
+"Do you know," she said as she rose, "I am afraid I have enjoyed this
+most awfully; but oh! to-morrow morning."
+
+"Shall you be tired?" he enquired.
+
+"Tired!" she queried, "I shall be hot with shame.  I shall not dare to
+look at myself in the glass.  I--I shall give myself a most awful time.
+For days I shall live in torture.  You see I'm excited now
+and--and--you seem so nice, and you've been so awfully kind; but when I
+get alone, then I shall start wondering what was in your mind, what you
+have been thinking of me, and--and--oh! it will be awful.  No; I'll
+come with you while you get your hat.  I daren't be left alone.  It
+might come on then and--and I should probably bolt.  Of course I shall
+have to ask you to see me home, if you will, because--because----"
+
+"I'm your fiancé," he smiled.
+
+"Ummm," she nodded.
+
+Both were silent as they sped along westward in the taxi, neither
+seeming to wish to break the spell.
+
+"Thinking?" enquired Bowen at length, as they passed the Marble Arch.
+
+"I was thinking how perfectly sweet you've been," replied Patricia
+gravely.  "You have understood everything and--and--you see I was so
+much at your mercy.  Shall I tell you what I was thinking?"
+
+"Please do."
+
+"It sounds horribly sentimental."
+
+"Never mind," he replied.
+
+"Well, I was thinking that your mother would like to know that you had
+done what you have done to-night.  And now, please, tell me how much my
+dinner was."
+
+"Your dinner!"
+
+"Yes, _ple-e-e-e-ase_," she emphasised the "please."
+
+"You insist?"
+
+And then Patricia did a strange thing.  She placed her hand upon
+Bowen's and pressed it.
+
+"Please go on understanding," she said, and he told her how much the
+dinner was and took the money from her.
+
+"May I pay for the taxi?" he enquired comically.
+
+For a moment she paused and then replied, "Yes, I think you may do
+that, and now here we are," as the taxi drew up, "and thank you very
+much indeed, and good-bye."  They were standing on the pavement outside
+Galvin House.
+
+"Good-bye," he enquired.  "Do you really mean it?"
+
+"Yes, _ple-e-e-ase_," again she emphasised the "please."
+
+"Patricia," he said in a serious tone, as the door flew open and
+Gustave appeared silhouetted against the light, "don't you think that
+sometimes we ought to think of the other fellow?"
+
+"I shall always think of the other fellow," and with a pressure of the
+hand, Patricia ran up the steps and disappeared into the hall, the door
+closing behind her.  Bowen turned slowly and re-entered the taxi.
+
+"Where to, sir?" enquired the man.
+
+"Oh, to hell!" burst out Bowen savagely.
+
+"Yes, sir; but wot about my petrol?"
+
+"Your petrol?  Oh!  I see," Bowen laughed.  "Well! the Quadrant then."
+
+In the hall Patricia hesitated.  Should she go into the lounge, where
+she was sure Galvin House would be gathered in full force, or should
+she go straight to bed?  Miss Wangle decided the matter by appearing at
+the door of the lounge.
+
+"Oh! here you are, Miss Brent; we thought you had eloped."
+
+"Wasn't it strange we should see you to-night?" lisped Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe, who had followed Miss Wangle.
+
+Patricia surveyed Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe with calculating calmness.
+
+"If two people go to the same Grill-room at the same time on the same
+evening, it would be strange if they did not see each other.  Don't you
+think so, Miss Wangle?"
+
+"Did you say you were going there?" lisped Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe, coming
+to Miss Wangle's assistance.  "We forgot."
+
+"Oh, do come in, Miss Brent!"  It was Mrs. Craske-Morton who spoke.
+
+Patricia entered the lounge and found, as she had anticipated, the
+whole establishment collected.  Not one was missing.  Even Gustave
+fluttered about from place to place, showing an unwonted desire to tidy
+up.  Patricia was conscious that her advent had interrupted a
+conversation of absorbing interest, furthermore that she herself had
+been the subject of that conversation.
+
+"Miss Wangle has been telling us all about your fiancé."  It was Miss
+Sikkum who spoke.  "Fancy your saying he was a major when he's a Staff
+lieutenant-colonel."
+
+"Oh!" replied Patricia nonchalantly, as she pulled off her gloves,
+"they've been altering him.  They always do that in the Army.  You get
+engaged to a captain and you find you have to marry a general.  It's so
+stupid.  It's like buying a kitten and getting a kangaroo-pup sent
+home."
+
+"But aren't you pleased?" enquired Mrs. Craske-Morton, at a loss to
+understand Patricia's mood.
+
+"No!" snapped Patricia, who was already feeling the reaction.  "It's
+like being engaged to a chameleon, or a quick-change artist.  They've
+made him a 'R.S.O.' as well."  Under her lashes Patricia saw, with keen
+appreciation, the quick glances that were exchanged.
+
+"You mean a D.S.O., Distinguished Service Order," explained Mr. Bolton.
+"An R.S.O. is er--er--something you put on letters."
+
+"Is it?" enquired Patricia innocently, "I'm so stupid at remembering
+such things."
+
+"He was wearing the ribbon of the Military Cross, too," bubbled Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe.
+
+"Was he?"  Patricia was afraid of overdoing the pose of innocence she
+had adopted.  "What a nuisance."
+
+"A nuisance!"  There was surprised impatience in Miss Wangle's voice.
+
+Patricia turned to her sweetly.  "Yes, Miss Wangle.  It gives me such a
+lot to remember.  Now let me see."  She proceeded to tick off each word
+upon her fingers.  "He's a Lieutenant-Colonel Peter Bowen, D.S.O., M.C.
+Is that right?"
+
+"Bowen," almost shrieked Miss Wangle.  "You said Brown."
+
+"Did I?  I'm awfully sorry.  My memory's getting worse than ever."
+Then a wave of mischief took possession of her.  "Do you know when I
+went up to him to-night I hadn't the remotest idea of what his
+Christian name was."
+
+"Then what on earth do you call him then?" cried Mrs. Craske-Morton.
+
+"Call him?" queried Patricia, as she rose and gathered up her gloves.
+"Oh!" indifferently, "I generally call him 'Old Thing,'" and with that
+she left the lounge, conscious that she had scored a tactical victory.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE MADNESS OF LORD PETER BOWEN
+
+When Patricia awakened the next morning, it was with the feeling that
+she had suffered some terrible disappointment.  As a child she
+remembered experiencing the same sensation on the morning after some
+tragedy that had resulted in her crying herself to sleep.  She opened
+her eyes and was conscious that her lashes were wet with tears.
+Suddenly the memory of the previous night's adventure came back to her
+with a rush and, with an angry dab of the bedclothes, she wiped her
+eyes, just as the maid entered with the cup of early-morning tea she
+had specially ordered.
+
+With inspiration she decided to breakfast in bed.  She could not face a
+whole table of wide-eyed interrogation.  "Oh, the cats!" she muttered
+under her breath.  "I hate women!"  Later she slipped out of the house
+unobserved, with what she described to herself as a "morning after the
+party" feeling.  She was puzzled to account for the tears.  What had
+she been dreaming of to make her cry?
+
+Every time the thought of her adventure presented itself, she put it
+resolutely aside.  She was angry with herself, angry with the world,
+angry with one Lieutenant-Colonel Peter Bowen.  Why, she could not have
+explained.
+
+"Oh, bother!" she exclaimed, as she made a fourth correction in the
+same letter.  "Going out is evidently not good for you, Patricia."
+
+She spent the day alternately in wondering what Bowen was thinking of
+her, and deciding that he was not thinking of her at all.  Finally,
+with a feeling of hot shame, she remembered to what thoughts she had
+laid herself open.  Her one consolation was that she would never see
+him again.  Then, woman-like, she wondered whether he would make an
+effort to see her.  Would he be content with his dismissal?
+
+For the first time during their association, the rising politician was
+conscious that his secretary was anxious to get off sharp to time.  At
+five minutes to five she resolutely put aside her notebook, and banged
+the cover on to her typewriter.  Mr. Bonsor looked up at this unwonted
+energy and punctuality on Patricia's part, and with a tactful interest
+in the affairs of others that he was endeavouring to cultivate for
+political purposes, he enquired:
+
+"Going out?"
+
+"No," snapped Patricia, "I'm going home."
+
+Mr. Bonsor raised his eyebrows in astonishment.  He was a mild-mannered
+man who had learned the value of silence when faced by certain phases
+of feminine psychological phenomena.  He therefore made no comment; but
+he watched his secretary curiously as she swiftly left the room.
+
+Jabbing the pins into her hat and throwing herself into her coat,
+Patricia was walking down the steps of the rising politician's house in
+Eaton Square as the clock struck five.  She walked quickly in the
+direction of Sloane Square Railway Station.  Suddenly she slackened her
+speed.  Why was she hurrying home?  She felt herself blushing hotly,
+and became furiously angry as if discovered in some humiliating act.
+Then with one of those odd emotional changes characteristic of her, she
+smiled.
+
+"Patricia Brent," she murmured, "I think a little walk won't do you any
+harm," and she strolled slowly up Sloane Street and across the Park to
+Bayswater.
+
+Her hand trembled as she put the key in the door and opened it.  She
+looked swiftly in the direction of the letter-rack; but her eyes were
+arrested by two boxes, one very large and obviously from a florist.  A
+strange excitement seized her.  "Were they----?"
+
+At that moment Miss Sikkum came out of the lounge simpering.
+
+"Oh, Miss Brent! have you seen your beautiful presents?"
+
+Then Patricia knew, and she became angry with herself on finding how
+extremely happy she was.  Glancing almost indifferently at the labels
+she proceeded to walk upstairs.  Miss Sikkum looked at her in amazement.
+
+"But aren't you going to open them?" she blurted out.
+
+"Oh! presently," said Patricia in an off-hand way, "I had no idea it
+was so late," and she ran upstairs, leaving Miss Sikkum gazing after
+her in petrified astonishment.
+
+That evening Patricia took more than usual pains with her toilette.
+Had she paused to ask herself why, she would have been angry.
+
+When she came downstairs, the other boarders were seated at the table,
+all expectantly awaiting her entrance.  On the table, in the front of
+her chair, were the two boxes.
+
+"I had your presents brought in here, Miss Brent," explained Mrs.
+Craske-Morton.
+
+"Oh!  I had forgotten all about them," said Patricia indifferently, "I
+suppose I had better open them," which she proceeded to do.
+
+The smaller box contained chocolates, as Mr. Bolton put it, "evidently
+bought by the hundred-weight."  The larger of the boxes was filled with
+an enormous spray-bunch of white and red carnations, tied with green
+silk ribbon, and on the top of each box was a card, "With love from
+Peter."
+
+Patricia's cheeks burned.  She was angry, she told herself, yet there
+was a singing in her heart and a light in her eyes that oddly belied
+her.  He had not forgotten!  He had dared to disobey her injunction;
+for, she told herself, "good-bye" clearly forbade the sending of
+flowers and chocolates.  She was unconscious that every eye was upon
+her, and the smile with which she regarded now the flowers, now the
+chocolates, was self-revelatory.
+
+Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe glanced significantly at Miss Wangle, who,
+however, was too occupied in watching Patricia with hawk-like
+intentness to be conscious of anything but the quarry.
+
+Suddenly Patricia remembered, and her face changed.  The flowers faded,
+the chocolates lost their sweetness and the smile vanished.  The parted
+lips set in a firm but mobile line.  What had before been a tribute now
+became in her eyes an insult.  Men sent chocolates and flowers to--to
+"those women"!  If he respected her he would have done as she commanded
+him, instead of which he had sent her presents.  Oh! it was intolerable.
+
+"If I sent flowers and chocolates to a lady friend," said Mr. Bolton,
+"I should expect her to look happier than you do, Miss Brent."
+
+With an effort Patricia gathered herself together and with a forced
+smile replied, "Ah!  Mr. Bolton, but you are different," which seemed
+to please Mr. Bolton mightily.
+
+She was conscious that everyone was looking at her in surprise not
+unmixed with disapproval.  She was aware that her attitude was not the
+conventional pose of the happily-engaged girl.  The situation was
+strange.  Even Mr. Cordal was bestowing upon her a portion of his
+attention.  It is true that he was eating curry with a spoon, which
+required less accuracy than something necessitating a knife and fork;
+still at meal times it was unusual of him to be conscious even of the
+existence of his fellow-boarders.
+
+It was Gustave who relieved the situation by handing to Patricia a
+telegram on the little tray where the silver had long since given up
+the unequal struggle with the base metal beneath.  Patricia with
+assumed indifference laid it beside her plate.
+
+"The boy ees waiting, mees," insinuated Gustave.
+
+Patricia tore open the envelope and read: "May I come and see you this
+evening dont say no peter."
+
+Patricia was conscious of her flushed face and she felt irritated at
+her own weakness.  With a murmured apology to Mrs. Morton she rose from
+the table and went into the lounge where she wrote the reply: "Regret
+impossible remember your promise," then she paused.  She did not want
+to sign her full name, she could not sign her Christian name she
+decided, so she compromised by using initials only, "P.B."  She took
+the telegram to the door herself, knowing that otherwise poor Gustave's
+life would be a misery at the hands of Miss Wangle, Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe and the others.
+
+"Why had she given the boy sixpence?" she asked herself as she slowly
+returned to the dining-room.  Telegraph boys were paid.  It was
+ridiculous to tip them, especially when they brought undesirable
+messages.  "Was the message undesirable?" someone within seemed to
+question.  Of course it was, and she was very angry with Bowen for not
+doing as she had commanded him.
+
+When Patricia returned to the table and proceeded with the meal, she
+was conscious of the atmosphere of expectancy around her.  Everybody
+wanted to know what was in the telegram.
+
+At last Miss Wangle enquired, "No bad news I hope, Miss Brent."
+
+Patricia looked up and fixed Miss Wangle with a deliberate stare, which
+she meant to be rude.
+
+"None, Miss Wangle, thank you," she replied coldly.
+
+The dinner proceeded until the sweet was being served, when Gustave
+approached her once more.
+
+"You are wanted, mees, on the telephone, please," he said.
+
+Patricia was conscious once more of crimsoning as she turned to
+Gustave.  "Please say that I'm engaged," she said.
+
+Gustave left the dining-room.  Everybody watched the door in a fever of
+expectancy.
+
+Two minutes later Gustave reappeared and, walking softly up to
+Patricia's chair, whispered in a voice that could be clearly heard by
+everyone, "It ees Colonel Baun, mees.  He wish to speak to you."
+
+"Tell him I'm at dinner," replied Patricia calmly.  She could literally
+hear the gasp that went round the table.
+
+"But, Miss Brent," began Mrs. Craske-Morton.
+
+Patricia turned and looked straight into Mrs. Craske-Morton's eyes
+interrogatingly.  Gustave hesitated.  Mrs. Craske-Morton collapsed.
+Miss Wangle and Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe exchanged meaning glances.  Little
+Mrs. Hamilton looked concerned, almost a little sad.  Patricia turned
+to Gustave.
+
+"You heard, Gustave?"
+
+"Yes, mees," replied Gustave and, turning reluctantly towards the door,
+he disappeared.
+
+There was something in Patricia's demeanour that made it clear she
+would resent any comment on her action, and the meal continued in
+silence.  Mr. Bolton made some feeble endeavours to lighten the
+atmosphere; but he was not successful.
+
+In the lounge a quarter of an hour later, Gustave once more approached
+Patricia, this time with a note.
+
+"The boy ees waiting, mees," he announced.
+
+Patricia tore open the envelope and read:
+
+
+"DEAR PATRICIA,
+
+"Won't you let me see you?  Please remember that even the under-dog has
+his rights.
+
+"Yours ever,
+  "PETER."
+
+
+"There is no answer, Gustave," said Patricia, and Gustave left the room
+disconsolately.
+
+Half an hour later Gustave returned once more.
+
+On his tray were three telegrams.  Patricia looked about her wildly.
+"Had the man suddenly gone mad?" she asked herself.  "Tell the boy not
+to wait, Gustave," she said.
+
+"There ees three boys, mees."
+
+The atmosphere was electrical.  Mr. Bolton laughed, then stopped
+suddenly.  Miss Sikkum simpered.
+
+Patricia turned to Gustave with a calmness that was not reflected in
+her cheeks.
+
+"Tell the three boys not to wait, Gustave."
+
+"Yes, mees!"  Gustave slowly walked to the door.  It was clear that he
+could not reconcile with his standard of ethics the allowing of three
+telegrams to remain unopened, and to dismiss three boys without knowing
+whether or no there really were replies.  The same feeling was
+reflected in the faces of Patricia's fellow-boarders.
+
+"Miss Brent must be losing a lot of relatives, or coming into a lot of
+fortunes," remarked Mr. Bolton to Mrs. Hamilton.
+
+Patricia preserved an outward calm she was far from feeling.  She rose
+and went up to her room to discover from the three orange envelopes
+what was the latest phase of Colonel Bowen's madness.  Seated on her
+bed she opened the telegrams.
+
+The first read:
+
+"Will you go motoring with me on Sunday peter."
+
+No, she would do nothing of the kind.
+
+The second said:
+
+"If I have done anything to offend you please tell me and forgive me
+peter."
+
+Of course he had done nothing, and it was all very absurd.  Why was he
+behaving like a schoolboy?
+
+The third was longer.  It ran:
+
+"I so enjoyed last night it was the most delightful evening I have
+spent for many a day please do not be too hard upon me peter."
+
+This was a tactical error.  It brought back to Patricia the whole
+incident.  It was utter folly to have placed herself in such an
+impossible position.  Obviously Bowen knew nothing of women, or he
+would not have made such a blunder as to remind her of what took place
+on the previous night, unless--unless----  She hardly dare breathe the
+thought to herself.  What if he thought her different from what she
+actually was?  Could he confuse her with those----  It was impossible!
+
+She was angry; angry with him, angry with herself, angry with the
+Quadrant Grill-room; but angriest of all with Galvin House, which had
+precipitated her into this adventure.
+
+Why did silly women expect every girl to marry?  Why was it assumed
+because a woman did not marry that no one wanted to marry her?
+Patricia regarded herself in the looking-glass.  Was she really the
+sort of girl who might be taken for an inveterate old maid?  Her hands
+and feet were small.  Her ankles well-shaped.  Her figure had been
+praised, even by women.  Her hair was a natural red-auburn.  Her
+features regular, her mouth mobile, well-shaped with very red lips.
+Her eyes a violet-blue with long dark lashes and eyebrows.
+
+"You're not so bad, Patricia Brent," she remarked as she turned from
+the glass.  "But you will probably be a secretary to the end of your
+days, drink cold weak tea, keep a cat and get hard and angular, skinny
+most likely.  You're just the sort that runs to skin and bone."
+
+She was interrupted in her meditations by a knock at the door.
+
+"Come in," she called.
+
+The door was softly opened and Mrs. Hamilton entered.
+
+"May I come in, dear?" she enquired in an apologetic voice, as she
+stood on the threshold.
+
+"Come in!" cried Patricia, "why of course you may, you dear.  You can
+do anything you like with me."
+
+Mrs. Hamilton was small and white and fragile, with a ray of sunlight
+in her soul.  She invariably dressed in grey, or blue-grey.  Everything
+she wore seemed to be as soft as her own expression.
+
+"I--I came up--I--I--hope it is not bad news.  I don't want to meddle
+in your affairs, my dear; but I am concerned.  If there is anything I
+can do, you will tell me, won't you?  You won't think me inquisitive,
+will you?"
+
+"Why you dear, silly little thing, of course I don't.  Still it's just
+like your sweet self to come up and enquire.  It is only that
+ridiculous Colonel Bowen who is showering telegrams on me in this way,
+in order, I suppose, to benefit the revenue.  I think he has gone mad.
+Perhaps it's shell-shock, poor thing.  There will most likely be
+another shower before we go to bed.  Now we will go downstairs and stop
+those old pussies talking."
+
+"My dear!" expostulated Mrs. Hamilton.
+
+Patricia laughed.  "Yes, aren't I getting acid and spinsterish?"
+
+As they walked downstairs Mrs. Hamilton said:
+
+"I'm so anxious to see him, my dear.  Miss Wangle says he is so
+distinguished-looking."
+
+"Who?" enquired Patricia, with mock innocence.
+
+"Colonel Bowen, dear."
+
+"Oh!  Yes, he's quite a decent-looking old thing, and he's given Galvin
+House something to talk about, hasn't he?"
+
+In the lounge Patricia soon became the centre of a group anxious for
+information; but no one was daring enough to put direct questions to
+her.  Mrs. Craske-Morton ventured a suggestion that Colonel Bowen might
+be coming to dine with Patricia, and that she hoped Miss Brent would
+let her know in good time, so that she might make special preparations.
+
+Patricia replied without enthusiasm.  None was better aware than she
+that had her fiancé turned out to be a private, Mrs. Craske-Morton
+would have been the last even to suggest that he should dine at Galvin
+House.  There would have been no question of special preparations.
+
+About ten o'clock Gustave entered and approached Patricia.  She groaned
+in spirit.
+
+"You are wanted on the telephone, mees."
+
+Patricia thought she detected a note of reproach in his voice, as if he
+were conscious that a fellow-male was being badly treated.
+
+"Will you say that I'm engaged?" replied Patricia.
+
+"It's Colonel Baun, mees."
+
+For a moment Patricia hesitated.  She was conscious that Galvin House
+was against her to a woman.  After all there were limits beyond which
+it would be unwise to go.  Galvin House had its standards, which had
+already been sorely tried.  Patricia felt rather than heard the
+whispered criticism passing between Miss Wangle and Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe.  Rising slowly with an air of reconciled martyrdom,
+Patricia went to the telephone at the end of the hall, followed by the
+smiling Gustave, who, like the rest of Galvin House, had found his
+sense of decorum sorely outraged by Patricia's conduct.
+
+"Hullo!" cried Patricia into the mouthpiece of the telephone, her heart
+thumping ridiculously.
+
+Gustave walked tactfully away.
+
+"That you, Patricia?" came the reply.
+
+Patricia was conscious that all her anger had vanished.
+
+"Yes, who is speaking?"
+
+"Peter."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"How are you?"
+
+"Did you ring me up to ask after my health?"
+
+There was a laugh at the other end.
+
+"Well!" enquired Patricia, who knew she was behaving like a schoolgirl.
+
+"Did you get my message?"
+
+"I'm very angry."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because you've made me ridiculous with your telegrams, messenger-boys,
+and telephoning."
+
+"May I call?"
+
+"No."
+
+"I'm coming to-morrow night."
+
+"I shall be out."
+
+"Then I'll wait until you return."
+
+"Are you playing the game, do you think?"
+
+"I must see you.  Expect me about nine."
+
+"I shall do nothing of the sort."
+
+"Please don't be angry, Patricia."
+
+"Well! you mustn't come, then.  Thank you for the chocolates and
+flowers."
+
+"That's all right.  Don't forget to-morrow at nine."
+
+"I tell you I shall be out."
+
+"Right-oh!"
+
+"Good-bye!"
+
+Without waiting for a reply, Patricia hung up the receiver.
+
+When she returned to the lounge her cheeks were flushed, and she was
+feeling absurdly happy.  Then a moment after she asked herself what it
+was to her whether he remembered or forgot her.  He was an entire
+stranger--or at least he ought to be.
+
+Just as she was going up to her room for the night, another telegram
+arrived.  It contained three words: "Good night peter."
+
+"Of all the ridiculous creatures!" she murmured, laughing in spite of
+herself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+PATRICIA'S REVENGE
+
+Galvin House dined at seven-thirty.  Miss Wangle had used all her arts
+in an endeavour to have the hour altered to eight-fifteen, or
+eight-thirty.  "It would add tone to the establishment," she had
+explained to Mrs. Craske-Morton.  "It is dreadfully suburban to dine at
+half-past seven."  Conscious of the views of the other guests, Mrs.
+Craske-Morton had held out, necessitating the bringing up of Miss
+Wangle's heavy artillery, the bishop, whose actual views Miss Wangle
+shrouded in a mist of words.  As far as could be gathered, the
+illustrious prelate held out very little hope of salvation for anyone
+who dined earlier than eight-thirty.
+
+Just as Mrs. Craske-Morton was wavering, Mr. Bolton had floored Miss
+Wangle and her ecclesiastical relic with the simple question, "And
+who'll pay for the biscuits I shall have to eat to keep going until
+half-past eight?"
+
+That had clinched the matter.  Galvin House continued to dine at the
+unfashionable hour of seven-thirty.  Miss Wangle had resigned herself
+to the inevitable, conscious that she had done her utmost for the
+social salvation of her fellow-guests, and mentally reproaching
+Providence for casting her lot with the Cordals and the Boltons, rather
+than with the De Veres and the Montmorencies.
+
+Mr. Bolton confided to his fellow-boarders what he conceived to be the
+real cause of Mrs. Craske-Morton's decision.
+
+"She's afraid of what Miss Wangle would eat if left unfed for an extra
+hour," he had said.
+
+Miss Wangle's appetite was like Dominie Sampson's favourite adjective,
+"prodigious."
+
+So it came about that on the Friday evening on which Colonel Peter
+Bowen had announced his intention of calling on Patricia, Galvin House,
+all unconscious of the event, sat down to its evening meal at its usual
+time, in its usual coats and blouses, with its usual vacuous smiles and
+small talk, and above all with its usual appetite--an appetite that had
+caused Mrs. Craske-Morton to bless the inauguration of food-control,
+and to pray devoutly to Providence for food-tickets.
+
+Had anyone suggested to Patricia that she had dressed with more than
+usual care that evening, she would have denied it, she might even have
+been annoyed.  Her simple evening frock of black voile, unrelieved by
+any colour save a ribbon of St. Patrick's green that bound her hair,
+showed up the paleness of her skin and the redness of her lips.  At the
+last moment, as if under protest, she had pinned some of Bowen's
+carnations in her belt.
+
+As she entered the dining-room, Miss Wangle and Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe
+exchanged significant glances.  Woman-like they sensed something
+unusual.  Galvin House did not usually dress for dinner.
+
+"Going out?" enquired Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe sweetly.
+
+"Probably," was Patricia's laconic reply.
+
+Soup had not been disposed of (it was soup on Mondays, Wednesdays, and
+Fridays; fish on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, and neither on
+Sundays at Galvin House) before Gustave entered with an enormous
+bouquet of crimson carnations.  It might almost be said that the
+carnations entered propelled by Gustave, as there was very little but
+Gustave's smiling face above and the ends of his legs below the screen
+of flowers.  Instinctively everybody looked at Patricia.
+
+"For you, mees, with Colonel Baun's compliments."
+
+Gustave stood irresolute, the crimson blooms cascading before him.
+
+"You've forgotten the conservatory, Gustave," laughed Mr. Bolton.  It
+was always easy to identify the facetious from the serious Mr. Bolton;
+his jokes were always heralded by a laugh.
+
+"Sir?" interrogated the literal-minded Gustave.
+
+"Never mind, Gustave.  Mr. Bolton was joking," said Mrs. Craske-Morton.
+
+"Yes, madame."  Gustave smiled a mechanical smile: he overflowed with
+tact.
+
+"Where will you have the flowers, Miss Brent?" enquired Mrs.
+Craske-Morton.  "They are exquisite."
+
+"Try the bath," suggested Mr. Bolton.
+
+"Sir?" from Gustave.
+
+It was Alice, Gustave's assistant in the dining-room during meals, who
+created the diversion for which Patricia had been devoutly praying.  An
+affected little laugh from Miss Sikkum called attention to Alice,
+standing just inside the door, with an enormous white and gold box tied
+with bright green ribbon.
+
+Patricia regarded the girl in dismay.
+
+"Put them in the lounge, please," she said.
+
+"You are lucky, Miss Brent," giggled Miss Sikkum enviously.  "I wonder
+what's in the box."
+
+"A chest protector," Mr. Bolton's laugh rang out.
+
+"Really, Mr. Bolton!" from Mrs. Craske-Morton.
+
+Patricia wondered was she lucky?  Why should she be made ridiculous in
+this fashion?
+
+"I should say chocolates."  The suggestion came from Mr. Cordal through
+a mouthful of roast beef and Brussels sprouts.  Everyone turned to the
+speaker, whose gastronomic silence was one of the most cherished
+traditions of Galvin House.
+
+"He must have plenty of money," remarked Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe to Miss
+Wangle in a whisper, audible to all.  "Those flowers and chocolates
+must have cost a lot."
+
+"Ten pounds."  The remark met a large Brussels sprout that Mr. Cordal
+was conveying to his mouth and summarily ejected it.
+
+As Mr. Cordal was something on the Stock Exchange (Mr. Bolton had once
+said he must be a "bear") he was, at Galvin House, the recognised
+authority upon all matters of finance.
+
+"Really, Mr. Cordal!" expostulated Mrs. Craske-Morton, rather outraged
+at this open discussion of Patricia's affairs.
+
+"Sure of it," was all Mr. Cordal vouchsafed as he shovelled in another
+mouthful.
+
+"You've been a goer in your time, Mr. Cordal," said Mr. Bolton.
+
+Mr. Cordal grunted, which may have meant anything, but in all
+probability meant nothing.
+
+For a quarter of an hour the inane conversation so characteristic of
+meal-times at Galvin House continued without interruption.  How
+Patricia hated it.  Was this all that life held for her?  Was she
+always to be a drudge to the Bonsors, a victim of the Wangles and a
+target for the Boltons of life?  It was to escape such drab existences
+that girls went on the stage, or worse; and why not?  She had only one
+life, so far as she knew, and here she was sacrificing it to the jungle
+people, as she called them.  Was there no escape?  What St. George
+would rescue her from this dragon of----?
+
+"Colonel Baun, mees."
+
+Patricia looked up with a start from the apple tart with which she was
+trifling.  Gustave stood beside her, his face glowing in a way that
+hinted at a handsome tip.  He was all-unconscious that he had answered
+a very difficult question in a manner entirely unsatisfactory to
+Patricia.
+
+"I haf show him in the looaunge, mees.  He will wait."
+
+Patricia believed him.  Was ever man so persistent?  She saw through
+the move.  He had come an hour earlier to be sure of catching her
+before she went out.  Patricia was once more conscious of the
+ridiculous behaviour of her heart.  It thumped and pounded against her
+ribs as if determined to compromise her with the rest of the boarders.
+
+"Very well, Gustave, say we are at dinner."
+
+"Yes, mees," and Gustave proceeded with his duties.
+
+"He's clever," was Patricia's inward comment.  "He's bought Gustave,
+and in an hour he'll have the whole blessed place against me."
+
+If the effect upon Patricia of Gustave's announcement had been
+startling, that upon the rest of the company was galvanic.  Each felt
+aggrieved that proper notice had not been given of so auspicious an
+event.  There was a general feeling of resentment against Patricia for
+not having told them that she expected Bowen to call.
+
+There were covert glances at their garments by the ladies, and among
+the men a consciousness that the clothes they were wearing were not
+those they had upstairs.
+
+Miss Sikkum's playful fancy was with the Brixton "Paris model," which
+only that day she had taken to the cleaners; Miss Wangle was conscious
+that she had not hung herself with her full equipment of chains and
+accoutrements; Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe thought regretfully of the pale
+blue evening-gown upstairs, a garment that had followed the course of
+fashion for nearly a quarter of a century.  Mr. Bolton had doubts about
+his collar and his boots, whilst Mr. Cordal, with the aid of his napkin
+and some water from a drinking glass, strove to remove from his
+waistcoat reminiscences of bygone repasts.
+
+The other members of the company all had something to regret.  Mr.
+Archibald Sefton, whose occupation was a secret between himself and
+Providence, was dubious about the creases in his trousers; Mrs. Barnes
+wondered if the gallant colonel would discover the ink she had that day
+applied to the seams of her dress.  Everyone was constrained and
+anxious to get to his or to her room for repairs.
+
+"Did you know Colonel Bowen was coming?" enquired Mrs. Craske-Morton,
+quite at her ease in the knowledge that "something had told her" to put
+on her best black silk and the large cameo pendant that made her look
+like a wine-steward at a fashionable restaurant.
+
+"He said he might drop in; but he's so casual that I didn't think it
+worth mentioning," said Patricia, conscious that the reply was
+unanimously regarded as unconvincing.
+
+Having finished her coffee Patricia rose in a leisurely manner.  She
+was no sooner out of the door than a veritable stampede ensued.  Every
+one intended "just to slip upstairs for a moment," and each glared at
+the other on discovering that all seemed inspired by the same idea.
+
+Mrs. Craske-Morton went to her "boudoir" out of tactful consideration
+for the young lovers; Mrs. Hamilton went up to the drawing-room for the
+same reason.
+
+Patricia paused for a moment outside the door of the lounge.  She put
+her cool hands to her hot cheeks, wondering why her heart should show
+so little regard for her feelings.  She felt an impulse to run away and
+lock herself in her own room and cry "Go away!" to anyone who might
+knock.  She strove to work herself into a state of anger with Bowen for
+daring to come an hour before the time appointed.
+
+As she entered the lounge, Bowen sprang up and came towards her.  There
+was a spirit of boyish mischief lurking in his eyes.
+
+"I suppose," said Patricia as they shook hands, "you think this is very
+clever."
+
+"Please, Patricia, don't bully me."
+
+Patricia laughed in spite of herself at the humility and appeal in his
+voice.  She was conscious that she was not behaving as she ought, or
+had intended to behave.
+
+"It seems an age since I saw you," he continued.
+
+"Forty-eight hours, to be exact," commented Patricia, forgetful of all
+the reproachful things she had intended to say.
+
+"You got the flowers?" as his eye fell on the carnations which Gustave
+had placed in a large bowl.
+
+"Yes, thank you very much indeed, they're exquisite.  They made Miss
+Sikkum quite envious."
+
+"Who's Miss Sikkum?"
+
+"Time, in all probability, will show," replied Patricia, seating
+herself on a settee.  Bowen drew up a chair and sat opposite to her.
+She liked him for that.  Had he sat beside her, she told herself, she
+would have hated him.
+
+"You're not angry with me, Patricia, are you?"  There was an anxious
+note in his voice.
+
+"Do you appreciate that you've made me extremely ridiculous with your
+telegrams, messenger-boys, conservatories, and confectioner's-shops?
+Why did you do it?"
+
+"I don't know," he confessed with unconscious gaucherie, "I simply
+couldn't get you out of my thoughts."
+
+"Which shows that you tried," commented Patricia, the lightness of her
+words contradicted by the blush that accompanied them.
+
+"The King's Regulations do not provide for Patricias," he replied, "and
+I had to try.  That is how I knew."
+
+"Do you think I'm a cormorant, as well as an abandoned person?" she
+demanded.
+
+"A cormorant?" queried Bowen, ignoring the second question.  "I don't
+understand."
+
+"Within twenty-four hours you have sent me enough chocolates to last
+for a couple of months."
+
+"Poor Patricia!" he laughed.
+
+"You mustn't call me Patricia, Colonel Bowen," she said primly.  "What
+will people think?"
+
+"What would they think if they heard the man you're engaged to call you
+Miss Brent?"
+
+"We are not engaged," said Patricia hotly.
+
+"We are," his eyes smiled into hers.  "I can bring all these people
+here to prove it on your own statement."
+
+She bit her Up.  "Are you going to be mean?  Are you going to play the
+game?"  She awaited his reply with an anxiety she strove to disguise.
+
+Bowen looked straight into her eyes until they fell beneath his gaze.
+
+"I'm afraid I've got to be mean, Patricia," he said quietly.  "May we
+smoke?"
+
+As she took a cigarette from his case and he lighted it for her,
+Patricia found herself experiencing a new sensation.  Without apparent
+effort he had assumed control of the situation, and then with a
+masterfulness that she felt rather than acknowledged, had put the
+subject aside as if requiring no further comment.  This was a side of
+Bowen's character that she had not yet seen.  As she was debating with
+herself whether or no she liked it, the door opened, giving access to a
+stream of Galvin Houseites.
+
+"Oh!" gasped Patricia hysterically, "they're all dressed up, and it's
+in your honour."
+
+"What's that?" enquired Bowen, less mentally agile than Patricia, as he
+turned round to gaze at the string of paying guests that oozed into the
+room.
+
+"They've put on their best bibs and tuckers for you," she cried.  "Oh!
+please don't even smile, _ple-e-e-ase_!"
+
+The first to enter was Miss Wangle.  Although she had not changed her
+dress, it was obvious that she had taken considerable pains with her
+personal appearance.  On her fingers were more than the usual weight of
+rings; round her neck were flung a few additional chains; on her arms
+hung an extra bracelet or two and, as a final touch, she had added a
+fan to her equipment.  To Patricia's keen eyes it was clear that she
+had re-done her hair, and she carried her lorgnettes, things that in
+themselves betokened a ceremonial occasion.
+
+Following Miss Wangle like an echo came Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe.  She had
+evidently taken her courage in both hands and donned the blue evening
+frock, to which she had added a pair of white gloves which reached
+barely to the elbow, although the frock ended just below her shoulders.
+
+Miss Wangle bowed graciously to Patricia, Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe followed
+suit.  They moved over to the extreme end of the room.  Mr. Cordal was
+the next arrival, closely followed by Mr. Bolton.  At the sight of Mr.
+Cordal Patricia started and bit her lower lip.  He had assumed a vivid
+blue tie, and had obviously changed his collar.  From the darker spots
+on his waistcoat and coat it was evident that he had subjected his
+clothes to a vigorous process of cleaning.
+
+Mr. Bolton, on the other hand, had followed Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe's
+lead, and made a clean sweep.  He had assumed a black frock-coat; but
+had apparently not thought it worth while to change his brown tweed
+trousers, which hung about his boots in shapeless folds, as if
+conscious that they had no right there.  He, too, had donned a clean
+collar and, by way of adding to his splendour, had assumed a white
+satin necktie threaded through a "diamond" ring.  His thin dark hair
+was generously oiled and, as he passed over to the side of the room
+occupied by Miss Wangle and Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe, he left behind him a
+strong odour of verbena.
+
+Mrs. Barnes came next and, one by one, the other guests drifted in.
+All had assumed something in the nature of a wedding garment in honour
+of Patricia's fiancé.  Miss Sikkum had selected a pea-green satin
+blouse, which caused Bowen to screw his eyeglass vigorously into his
+eye and gaze at her in wonder.
+
+"Do you like them?" It was Patricia who broke the silence.
+
+With a start Bowen turned to her.  "Er--er--they seem an er--awfully
+decent crowd."
+
+Patricia laughed.  "Yes, aren't they?  Dreadfully decent.  How would
+you like to live among them all?  Why they haven't the pluck to break a
+commandment among them."
+
+Bowen looked at Patricia in surprise.  "Really!" was the only remark he
+could think of.
+
+"And now I've shocked you!" cried Patricia.  "You must not think that I
+like people who break commandments.  I don't know exactly what I do
+mean.  Oh, here you are!" and she ran across as Mrs. Hamilton entered
+and drew her towards Bowen.  "Now I know what I meant.  This dear
+little creature has never broken a commandment, I wouldn't mind betting
+everything I have, and she has never been uncharitable to anyone who
+has.  Isn't that so?"  She turned to Mrs. Hamilton, who was regarding
+her in astonishment.  "Oh, I'm so sorry!  I'm quite mad to-night, you
+mustn't mind.  You see Colonel Bowen's mad and he makes me mad."
+
+Turning to Bowen she introduced him to Mrs. Hamilton.  "This is my
+friend, Mrs. Hamilton." Then to Mrs. Hamilton.  "You know all about
+Colonel Bowen, don't you, dear?  He's the man who sends me
+conservatories and telegrams and boy-messengers and things."
+
+Mrs. Hamilton smiled up sweetly at Bowen, and held out her hand.
+
+Patricia glanced across at the group at the other end of the lounge.
+The scene reminded her of Napoleon on the _Bellerophon_.
+
+Suddenly she had an idea.  It synchronised with the entry of Gustave,
+who stood just inside the door smiling inanely.
+
+"Call a taxi for Colonel Bowen, please, Gustave," she said coolly.
+
+Gustave looked surprised, the group looked disappointed, Bowen looked
+at Patricia with a puzzled expression.
+
+"I'm sorry you're in a hurry," said Patricia, holding out her hand to
+Bowen.  "I'm busy also."
+
+"But----" began Bowen.
+
+"Oh! don't trouble."  Patricia advanced, and he had perforce to retreat
+towards the door.  "See you again sometime.  Good-bye," and Bowen found
+himself in the hall.
+
+"Damn!" he muttered.
+
+"Sir?" interrogated Gustave anxiously.
+
+As Bowen was replying to Gustave in coin, Mrs. Craske-Morton appeared
+at the head of the stairs on her way down to the lounge after her
+tactful absence.  For a moment she hesitated in obvious surprise, then,
+with the air of a would-be traveller who hears the guard's whistle, she
+threw dignity aside and made for Bowen.
+
+"Colonel Bowen?" she interrogated anxiously.
+
+Bowen turned and bowed.
+
+"I am Mrs. Craske-Morton.  Miss Brent did not tell me that you were
+making so short a call, or I would----"  Mrs. Craske-Morton's pause
+implied that nothing would have prevented her from hurrying down.
+
+"You are very kind," murmured Bowen absently, not yet recovered from
+his unceremonious dismissal.  He was brought back to realities by Mrs.
+Craske-Morton expressing a hope that he would give her the pleasure of
+dining at Galvin House one evening.  "Shall we say Friday?" she
+continued without allowing Bowen time to reply, "and we will keep it as
+a delightful surprise for Miss Brent."  Mrs. Craske-Morton exposed her
+teeth and felt romantic.
+
+When Bowen left Galvin House that evening he was pledged to give
+Patricia "a delightful surprise" on the following Friday.
+
+
+"That will teach them to pity me!" murmured Patricia that night as she
+brushed her hair with what seemed entirely unnecessary vigour.  She was
+conscious that she was the best-hated girl in Bayswater, as she
+recalled the angry and reproachful looks directed towards her by her
+fellow-guests after Bowen's departure.
+
+In an adjoining room Miss Wangle, a black cap upon her head, was also
+engaged in brushing her hair with a gentleness foreign to most of her
+actions.
+
+"The cat!" she murmured as she lay it in its drawer, and then as she
+locked the drawer she repeated, "The cat!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE INTERVENTION OF AUNT ADELAIDE
+
+Sunday at Galvin House was a day of bodily rest but acute mental
+activity.  The day of God seemed to draw out the worst in everybody;
+all were in their best clothes and on their worst behaviour.  Mr.
+Cordal descended to breakfast in carpet slippers with fur tops.  Miss
+Wangle regarded this as a mark of disrespect towards the grand-niece of
+a bishop.  She would glare at Mr. Cordal's slippers as if convinced
+that the cloven hoof were inside.
+
+Mr. Bolton sported a velvet smoking-jacket, white at the elbows, light
+grey trousers and a manner that seemed to say, "Ha! here's Sunday
+again, good!"  After breakfast he added a fez and a British cigar to
+his equipment, and retired to the lounge to read _Lloyd's News_.  Both
+the cigar and the newspaper lasted him throughout the day.  Somewhere
+at the back of his mind was the conviction that in smoking a cigar,
+which he disliked, he was making a fitting distinction between the
+Sabbath and week-days.  He went even further, for whereas on secular
+days he lit his inexpensive cigarettes with matches, on the Sabbath he
+used only fusees.
+
+"I love the smell of fusees," Miss Sikkum would simper, regardless of
+the fact that a hundred times before she had taken Galvin House into
+her confidence on the subject.  "I think they're so romantic."
+
+Patricia wondered if Mr. Bolton's fusee were an offering to heaven or
+to Miss Sikkum.
+
+On Sunday mornings Miss Wangle and Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe went to divine
+service at Westminster Abbey, and Mr. Cordal went to sleep in the
+lounge.
+
+Mrs. Barnes wandered aimlessly about, making anxious enquiry of
+everyone she encountered.  If it were cloudy, did they think it would
+rain?  If it rained, did they think it would clear up?  If it were
+fine, did they think it would last?  Mrs. Barnes was always going to do
+something that was contingent upon the weather.  Every Sunday she was
+going for a walk in the Park, or to church; but her constitutional
+indecision of character intervened.
+
+Mr. Archibald Sefton, who showed the qualities of a landscape gardener
+in the way in which he arranged his thin fair hair to disguise the
+desert of baldness beneath, was always vigorous on Sundays.  He
+descended to the dining-room rubbing his hands in a manner suggestive
+of a Dickens Christmas.  After breakfast he walked in the Park, "to
+give the girls a treat," as Mr. Bolton had once expressed it, which had
+earned for him a stern rebuke from Miss Wangle.  In the afternoon Mr.
+Sefton returned to the Park, and in the evening yet again.
+
+Mr. Sefton had a secret that was slowly producing in him misanthropy.
+His nature was tropical and his courage arctic, which, coupled with his
+forty-five years, was a great obstacle to his happiness.  In dress he
+was a dandy, at heart he was a craven and, never daring, he was
+consumed with his own fire.
+
+The other guests at Galvin House drifted in and out, said the same
+things, wore the same clothes, with occasional additions, had the same
+thoughts; whilst over all, as if to compose the picture, brooded the
+reek of cooking.
+
+The atmosphere of Galvin House was English, the cooking was English,
+and the lack of culinary imagination also was English.  There were two
+and a half menus for the one o'clock Sunday dinner.  Roast mutton,
+onion sauce, cabbage, potatoes, fruit pie, and custard; alternated for
+four weeks with roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, cauliflower, roast
+potatoes, and lemon pudding.  Then came roast pork, apple sauce,
+potatoes, greens with stewed fruit and cheese afterwards.
+
+The cuisine was in itself a calendar.  If your first Sunday were a
+roast-pork Sunday, you knew without mental effort on every roast-pork
+Sunday exactly how many months you had been there.  If for a moment you
+had forgotten the day, and found yourself toying with a herring at
+dinner, you knew it was a Tuesday, just as you knew it was Friday from
+the Scotch broth placed before you.
+
+Nobody seemed to mind the dreary reiteration, because everybody was so
+occupied in keeping up appearances.  Sunday was the day of reckoning
+and retrospection.  "Were they getting full value for their money?" was
+the unuttered question.  There were whisperings and grumblings,
+sometimes complaints.  Then there was another aspect.  Each guest had
+to enquire if the expenditure were justified by income.  All these
+things, like the weekly mending, were kept for Sundays.
+
+By tea-time the atmosphere was one of unrest.  Mr. Sefton returned from
+the Park disappointed, Miss Sikkum from Sunday-school, breathless from
+her flight before some alleged admirer, Patricia from her walk,
+conscious of a dissatisfaction she could not define.  Mr. Cordal awoke
+unrefreshed, Mrs. Craske-Morton emerged from her "boudoir," where she
+balanced the week's accounts, convinced that ruin stared her in the
+face owing to the tonic qualities of Bayswater air, and Mr. Bolton
+emerged from _Lloyd's News_ facetious.  Miss Wangle was acid, Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe ultra-forbearing, whilst Mrs. Barnes found it
+impossible to decide between a heart-cake and a rusk.  Only Mrs.
+Hamilton, at work upon her inevitable knitting, seemed human and
+content.
+
+On returning to Galvin House Patricia had formed a habit of
+instinctively casting her eyes in the direction of the letter-rack,
+beneath which was the table on which parcels were placed that they
+might be picked up as the various guests entered on their way to their
+rooms.  She took herself severely to task for this weakness, but in
+spite of her best efforts, her eyes would wander towards the table and
+letter-rack.  At last she had to take stern measures with herself and
+deliberately walk along the hall with her face turned to the left, that
+is to the side opposite from that of the letter-rack table.
+
+On the Sunday afternoon following her adventure at the Quadrant
+Grill-room, Patricia entered Galvin House, her head resolutely turned
+to the left, and ran into Gustave.
+
+"Oh, mees!" he exclaimed, his gentle, cow-like face expressing pained
+surprise, rather than indignation.
+
+Gustave was a Swiss, a French-Swiss, he was emphatic on this point.
+Patricia said he was Swiss wherever he wasn't French, and German
+wherever he wasn't Swiss and French.
+
+"I am so sorry, Gustave," apologised Patricia.  "I wasn't looking where
+I was going."
+
+Gustave smiled amiably, Patricia was a great favourite of his.  "There
+is a lady in the looaunge, Mees Brent, the same as you."  Gustave
+smiled broadly as if he had discovered some subtle joke in the
+duplication of Patricia's name.
+
+"Oh, bother!" muttered Patricia to herself.  "Aunt Adelaide, imagine
+Aunt Adelaide on an afternoon like this."
+
+She entered the lounge wearily, to find Miss Brent the centre of a
+group, the foremost in which were Mrs. Craske-Morton, Miss Wangle, and
+Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe.  Patricia groaned in spirit; she knew exactly
+what had been taking place, and now she would have to explain
+everything.  Could she explain?  Had she for one moment paused to think
+of Aunt Adelaide, no amount of frenzy or excitement would have prompted
+her to such an adventure.  Miss Brent would probe the mystery out of a
+ghost.  Material, practical, levelheaded, victorious, she would strip
+romance from a legend, or glamour from a myth.
+
+As she entered the lounge, Patricia saw by the movement of Miss
+Wangle's lips that she was saying "Ah! here she is."  Miss Brent turned
+and regarded her niece with a long, non-committal stare.  Patricia
+walked over to her.
+
+"Hullo, Aunt Adelaide!  Who would have thought of seeing you here."
+
+Miss Brent looked up at her, received the frigid kiss upon one cheek
+and returned it upon the other.
+
+"A peck for a peck," muttered Patricia to herself under her breath.
+
+"We've been talking about you," said Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe
+ingratiatingly.
+
+"How strange," announced Patricia indifferently.  "Well, Aunt
+Adelaide," she continued, turning to Miss Brent, "this is an unexpected
+pleasure.  How is it you are dissipating in town?"
+
+"I want to speak to you, Patricia.  Is there a quiet corner where we
+shall not be overheard?"
+
+Miss Wangle started, Mrs. Craske-Morton rose hurriedly and made for the
+door.  Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe looked uncomfortable.  Miss Brent's
+directness was a thing dreaded by all who knew her.
+
+"You had better come up to my room, Aunt Adelaide," said Patricia.
+
+As she reached the door, Mrs. Craske-Morton turned.  "Oh!  Miss Brent,"
+she said, addressing Patricia, "would you not like to take your aunt
+into my boudoir?  It is entirely at your disposal."
+
+Mrs. Craske-Morton's "boudoir" was a small cupboard-like apartment in
+which she made up her accounts.  It was as much like a boudoir as a
+starveling mongrel is like an aristocratic chow.  Patricia smiled her
+thanks.  One of Patricia's great points was that she could smile an
+acknowledgment in a way that was little less than inspiration.
+
+When they reached the "boudoir," Miss Brent sat down with a suddenness
+and an air of aggression that left Patricia in no doubt as to the
+nature of the talk she desired to have with her.
+
+Miss Brent was a tall, angular woman, with spinster shouting from every
+angle of her uncomely person.  No matter what the fashion, she seemed
+to wear her clothes all bunched up about her hips.  Her hair was
+dragged to the back of her head, and crowned by a hat known in the dim
+recesses of the Victorian past as a "boater."  A veil clawed what
+remained of the hair and hat towards the rear, and accentuated the
+sharpness of her nose and the fleshlessness of her cheeks.  Miss Brent
+looked like nothing so much as an aged hawk in whom the lust to prey
+still lingered, without the power of making the physical effort to
+capture it.
+
+"Patricia," she demanded, "what is all this I hear?"
+
+"If you've been talking to Miss Wangle and Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe, Aunt
+Adelaide, heaven only knows what you've heard," replied Patricia calmly.
+
+"Patricia."  Miss Brent invariably began her remarks by uttering the
+name of the person whom she addressed.  "Patricia, you know perfectly
+well what I mean."
+
+"I should know better, if you would tell me," murmured Patricia with a
+patient sigh as she seated herself in the easiest of the uneasy chairs,
+and proceeded to pull off her gloves.
+
+"Patricia, I refer to these stories about your being engaged."
+
+"Yes, Aunt Adelaide?"
+
+"Have you nothing to say?"
+
+"Nothing in particular.  People get engaged, you know.  I suppose it is
+because they've got nothing else to do."
+
+"Patricia, don't be frivolous."
+
+"Frivolous!  Me frivolous!  Aunt Adelaide!  If you were a secretary to
+a brainless politician, who is supposed to rise, but who won't rise,
+can't rise, and never will rise, from ten until five each day, for the
+magnificent salary of two and a half guineas a week, even you wouldn't
+be able to be frivolous."
+
+"Patricia!"  There was surprised disapproval in Miss Brent's voice.
+"Are you mad?"
+
+"No, Aunt Adelaide, just bored, just bored stiff."  Patricia emphasised
+the word "stiff" in a way that brought Miss Brent into an even more
+upright position.
+
+"Patricia, I wish you would change your idiom.  Your flagrant vulgarity
+would have deeply pained your poor, dear father."
+
+Patricia made no response; she simply looked as she felt, unutterably
+bored.  She was incapable even of invention.  Supposing she told her
+aunt the whole story, at least she would have the joy of seeing the
+look of horror that would overspread her features.
+
+"Patricia," continued Miss Brent, "I repeat, what is this I hear about
+your being engaged?"
+
+"Oh!" replied Patricia indifferently, "I suppose you've heard the
+truth; I've got engaged."
+
+"Without telling me a word about it."
+
+"Oh, well! those are nasty things, you know, that one doesn't
+advertise."
+
+"Patricia!"
+
+"Well, aunt, you say that all men are beasts, and if you associate with
+beasts, you don't like the world to know about it."
+
+"Patricia!" repeated Miss Brent.
+
+"Aunt Adelaide!" cried Patricia, "you make me feel that I absolutely
+hate my name.  I wish I'd been numbered.  If you say 'Patricia' again I
+shall scream."
+
+"Is it true that you are engaged to Lord Peter Bowen?"
+
+"Good Lord, no."  Patricia sat up in astonishment.
+
+"Then that woman in the lounge is a liar."
+
+There was uncompromising conviction in Miss Brent's tone.
+
+Patricia leaned forward and smiled.  "Aunt Adelaide, you are singularly
+discriminating to-day.  She is a liar, and she also happens to be a
+cat."
+
+Miss Brent appeared not to hear Patricia's remark.  She was occupied
+with her own thoughts.  She possessed a masculine habit of thinking
+before she spoke, and in consequence she was as devoid of impulse and
+spontaneity as a snail.
+
+Patricia watched her aunt covertly, her mind working furiously.  What
+could it mean?  Lord Peter Bowen!  Miss Wangle was not given to making
+mistakes in which the aristocracy were concerned.  At Galvin House she
+was the recognised authority upon anything and everything concerned
+with royalty and the titled and landed gentry.  County families were
+her hobbies and the peerage her obsession.  It would be just like
+Peter, thought Patricia, to turn out a lord, just the ridiculous,
+inconsequent sort of thing he would delight in.  She was unconscious of
+any incongruity in thinking of him as Peter.  It seemed the natural
+thing to do.
+
+She saw by the signs on her aunt's face that she was nearing a
+decision.  Conscious that she must not burn her boats, Patricia burst
+in upon Miss Brent's thoughts with a suddenness that startled her.
+
+"If Miss Wangle desires to discuss my friends with you in future, Aunt
+Adelaide, I think she should adopt the names by which they prefer to be
+known."
+
+Patricia watched the surprised look upon her aunt's face, and with
+dignity met the keen hawk-like glance that flashed from her eyes.
+
+"If, for reasons of his own," continued Patricia, "a man chooses to
+drop his title in favour of his rank in the army, that I think is a
+matter for him to decide, and not one that requires discussion at Miss
+Wangle's hands."
+
+Miss Brent's stare convinced Patricia that she was carrying things off
+rather well.
+
+"Patricia, where did you meet this Colonel Peter Bowen?"
+
+The question came like a thunder-clap to Patricia's unprepared ears.
+All her self-complacency of a moment before now deserted her.
+
+She felt her face crimsoning.  How she envied girls who did not blush.
+What on earth could she tell her aunt?  Why had an undiscriminating
+Providence given her an Aunt Adelaide at all?  Why had it not bestowed
+this inestimable treasure upon someone more deserving?  What could she
+say?  As well think of lying to Rhadamanthus as to Miss Brent.  Then
+Patricia had an inspiration.  She would tell her aunt the truth,
+trusting to her not to believe it.
+
+"Where did I meet him, Aunt Adelaide?" she remarked indifferently.
+"Oh!  I picked him up in a restaurant; he looked nice."
+
+"Patricia, how dare you say such a thing before me."  A slight flush
+mantled Miss Brent's sallow cheeks.  All the proprieties, all the
+chastities and all the moralities banked up behind her in moral support.
+
+"You ought to feel ashamed of yourself, Patricia.  London has done you
+no good.  What would your poor dear father have said?"
+
+"I'm sorry, Aunt Adelaide; but please remember I've had a very tiring
+week, trying to leaven an unleavenable politician.  Shall we drop the
+subject of Colonel Bowen for the time being?"
+
+"Certainly not," snapped Miss Brent.  "It is my duty as your sole
+surviving relative," how Patricia deplored that word "surviving," why
+had her Aunt Adelaide survived?  "As your sole surviving relative,"
+repeated Miss Brent, "it is my duty to look after your welfare."
+
+"But," protested Patricia, "I'm nearly twenty-five, and I am quite able
+to look after myself."
+
+"Patricia, it is my duty to look after you."  Miss Brent spoke as if
+she were about to walk over heated ploughshares rather than to satisfy
+a natural curiosity.
+
+"I repeat," proceeded Miss Brent, "where did you meet Colonel Bowen?"
+
+"I have told you, Aunt Adelaide, but you won't believe me."
+
+"I want to know the truth, Patricia.  Is he really Lord Peter?"
+persisted Miss Brent.
+
+"To be quite candid, I've never asked him," replied Patricia.
+
+Miss Brent stared at her niece.  The obviously feminine thing was to
+express surprise; but Miss Brent never did the obvious thing.  Instead
+of repeating, "Never asked him!" she remained silent for some moments
+while Patricia, with great intentness, proceeded to jerk her gloves
+into shape.
+
+"Patricia, you are mad!"  Miss Brent spoke with conviction.
+
+Patricia glanced up from her occupation and smiled at her aunt as if
+entirely sharing her conviction.
+
+"It's the price of spinsterhood with some women," was all she said.
+
+Miss Brent glared at her; but there was more than a spice of curiosity
+in her look.
+
+"Then you decline to tell me?" she enquired.  There was in her voice a
+note that told of a mind made up.
+
+Patricia knew from past experience that her aunt had made up her mind
+as to her course of action.
+
+"Tell you what?" she enquired innocently.
+
+"Whether or no the Colonel Bowen you are engaged to is Lord Peter
+Bowen."
+
+Patricia determined to temporise in order to gain time.  She knew Aunt
+Adelaide to be capable of anything, even to calling upon Lord Peter
+Bowen's family and enquiring if it were he to whom her niece was
+engaged.  She was too bewildered to know how to act.  It would be so
+like this absurd person to turn out to be a lord and make her still
+more ridiculous.  If he were Lord Peter, why on earth had he not told
+her?  Had he thought she would be dazzled?
+
+Suddenly there flashed into Patricia's mind an explanation which caused
+her cheeks to flame and her eyes to flash.  She strove to put the idea
+aside as unworthy of him; but it refused to leave her.  She had heard
+of men giving false names to girls they met--in the way she and Bowen
+had met.  He had, then, in spite of his protestations, mistaken her.
+In all probability he was not staying at the Quadrant at all.  What a
+fool she had been.  She had told all about herself, whereas he had told
+her nothing beyond the fact that his name was Peter Bowen.  Oh, it was
+intolerable, humiliating!
+
+The worst of it was that she seemed unable to extricate herself from
+the ever-increasing tangle arising out of her folly.  Miss Wangle and
+Galvin House had been sufficiently serious factors, requiring all her
+watchfulness to circumvent them; but now Aunt Adelaide had thrown
+herself precipitately into the mêlée, and heaven alone knew what would
+be the outcome!
+
+Had her aunt been a man or merely a woman, Patricia argued, she would
+not have been so dangerous; but she possessed the deliberate logic of
+the one and the quickness of perception of the other.  With her
+feminine eye she could see, and with her man-like brain she could judge.
+
+Patricia felt that the one thing to do was to get rid of her aunt for
+the day and then think things over quietly and decide as to her plan of
+campaign.
+
+"Please, Aunt Adelaide," she said, "don't let's discuss it any more
+to-day, I've had such a worrying time at the Bonsors', and my head is
+so stupid.  Come to tea to-morrow afternoon at half-past five and I
+will tell you all, as they say in the novelettes; but for heaven's sake
+don't get talking to those dreadful old tabbies.  They have no affairs
+of their own, and at the present moment they simply live upon mine."
+
+"Very well, Patricia," replied Miss Brent as she rose to go, "I will
+wait until to-morrow; but, understand me, I am your sole surviving
+relative and I have a duty to perform by you.  That duty I shall
+perform whatever it costs me."
+
+As Patricia looked into the hard, cold eyes of her aunt, she believed
+her.  At that moment Miss Brent looked as if she represented all the
+aggressive virtues in Christendom.
+
+"It's very sweet of you, Aunt Adelaide, and I very much appreciate your
+interest.  I am all nervy to-day; but I shall be all right to-morrow.
+Don't forget, half-past five here.  That will give me time to get back
+from the Bonsors'."
+
+Miss Brent pecked Patricia's right cheek and moved towards the door.
+"Remember, Patricia," she said, as a final shot, "to-morrow I shall
+expect a full explanation.  I am deeply concerned about you.  I cannot
+conceive what your poor dear father would have said had he been alive."
+
+With this parting shot Miss Brent moved down the staircase and left
+Galvin House.  As she stalked to the temperance hotel in Bloomsbury,
+where she was staying, she was fully satisfied that she had done her
+duty as a woman and a Christian.
+
+"Sole surviving relative," muttered Patricia as she turned back after
+seeing her aunt out.  And then she remembered with a smile that her
+father had once said that "relatives were the very devil."  A softness
+came into her eyes at the thought of her father, and she remembered
+another saying of his, "When you lose your sense of humour and your
+courage at the same time, you have lost the game."
+
+For a moment Patricia paused, deliberating what she would do.  Finally,
+she walked to the telephone at the end of the hall.  There was a
+grimness about her look indicative of a set purpose, taking down the
+receiver she called "Gerrard 60000."
+
+There was a pause.
+
+"That the Quadrant Hotel?" she enquired.  "Is Lord Peter Bowen in?"
+
+The clerk would enquire.
+
+Patricia waited what seemed an age.
+
+At last a voice cried, "Hullo!"
+
+"Is that Lord Peter Bowen?"
+
+"Is that you, Patricia?" came the reply from the other end of the wire.
+
+"Oh, so it is true then!" said Patricia.
+
+"What's true?" queried Bowen at the other end.
+
+"What I've just said."
+
+"What do you mean?  I don't understand."
+
+"I must see you this evening," said Patricia in an even voice.
+
+"That's most awfully good of you."
+
+"It's nothing of the sort."
+
+Bowen laughed.  "Shall I come round?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Will you dine with me?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, where shall I see you?"
+
+Patricia thought for a moment.  "I will meet you at Lancaster Gate tube
+at twenty minutes to nine."
+
+"All right, I'll be there.  Shall I bring the car?"
+
+For a moment Patricia hesitated.  She did not want to go to a
+restaurant with him, she wanted merely to talk and see how she was to
+get out of the difficulty with Aunt Adelaide.  The car seemed to offer
+a solution.  They could drive out to some quiet place and then talk
+without a chance of being overheard.
+
+"Yes, please, I think that will do admirably."
+
+"Mind you bring a thick coat.  Won't you let me pick you up?  Please
+do, then you can bring a fur coat and all that sort of thing, you know."
+
+Again Patricia hesitated for a moment.  "Perhaps that would be the
+better way," she conceded grudgingly.
+
+"Right-oh!  Will half-past eight do?"
+
+"Yes, I'll be ready."
+
+"It's awfully kind of you; I'm frightfully bucked."
+
+"You had better wait and see, I think," was Patricia's grim retort.
+"Good-bye."
+
+"Au revoir."
+
+Patricia put the receiver up with a jerk.
+
+She returned to her room conscious that she was never able to do
+herself justice with Bowen.  Her most righteous anger was always in
+danger of being dissipated when she spoke to him.  His personality
+seemed to radiate good nature, and he always appeared so genuinely glad
+to see her, or hear her voice that it placed her at a disadvantage.
+She ought to be stronger and more tenacious of purpose, she told
+herself.  It was weak to be so easily influenced by someone else,
+especially a man who had treated her in the way that Bowen had treated
+her; for Patricia had now come to regard herself as extremely ill-used.
+
+Nothing, she told herself, would have persuaded her to ring up Bowen in
+the way she had done, had it not been for Aunt Adelaide.  In her heart
+she had to confess that she was very much afraid of Aunt Adelaide and
+what she might do.
+
+Patricia dreaded dinner that evening.  She knew instinctively that
+everybody would be full of Miss Wangle's discovery.  She might have
+known that Miss Wangle would not be satisfied until she had discovered
+everything there was to be discovered about Bowen.
+
+As Patricia walked along the hall to the staircase, Mrs. Hamilton came
+out of the lounge.  Patricia put her arm round the fragile waist of the
+old lady and they walked upstairs together.
+
+"Well," said Patricia gaily, "what are the old tabbies doing this
+afternoon?"
+
+"My dear!" expostulated Mrs. Hamilton gently, "you mustn't call them
+that, they have so very little to interest them that--that----"
+
+"Oh, you dear, funny little thing!" said Patricia, giving Mrs. Hamilton
+a squeeze which almost lifted her off her feet.  "I think you would
+find an excuse for anyone, no matter how wicked.  When I get very, very
+bad I shall come and ask you to explain me to myself.  I think if you
+had your way you would prove every wolf a sheep underneath.  Come into
+my room and have a pow-wow."
+
+Inside her room Patricia lifted Mrs. Hamilton bodily on to the bed.
+"Now lie there, you dear little thing, and have a rest.  Dad used to
+say that every woman ought to lie on her back for two hours each day.
+I don't know why.  I suppose it was to keep her quiet and get her out
+of the way.  In any case you have got to lie down there."
+
+"But your bed, my dear," protested Mrs. Hamilton.
+
+"Never mind my bed, you just do as you're told.  Now what are the old
+cats--I beg your pardon, what have the--lambs been saying?"
+
+Mrs. Hamilton smiled in spite of herself.  "Well, of course, dear,
+we're all very interested to hear that you are engaged to--Lord Peter
+Bowen."
+
+"How did they find out?" interrupted Patricia.
+
+"Well, it appears that Miss Wangle has a friend who has a cousin in the
+War Office."
+
+"Oh, dear!" groaned Patricia.  "I believe Miss Wangle has a friend who
+has a cousin in every known place in the world, and a good many unknown
+places," she added.  "She has got a bishop in heaven, innumerable
+connections in Mayfair, acquaintances at Court, cousins of friends at
+the War Office; the only place where she seems to have nobody who has
+anybody else is hell."
+
+"My dear!" said Mrs. Hamilton in horror, "you mustn't talk like that."
+
+"But isn't it true?" persisted Patricia.  "Well, I'm sorry if I've
+shocked you.  Tell me all about it."
+
+"Well," began Mrs. Hamilton, "soon after you had gone out Miss Wangle's
+friend telephoned in reply to her letter of enquiry.  She told her all
+about Lord Peter Bowen, how he had distinguished himself in France, won
+the Military Cross, the D.S.O., how he had been promoted to the rank of
+lieutenant-colonel, and brought back to the War Office and given a
+position on the General Staff.  He's a very clever young man, my dear."
+
+Patricia laughed outright at Mrs. Hamilton's earnestness.  "Why of
+course he's clever, otherwise he wouldn't have taken up with such a
+clever young woman."
+
+"Well, my dear, I hope you'll be happy," said Mrs. Hamilton earnestly.
+
+"I doubt it," said Patricia.
+
+"Doubt it!"  There was horror in Mrs. Hamilton's voice.  She half
+raised herself on the bed.  Patricia pushed her back again.
+
+"Never mind, your remark reminds me of a story about a
+great-great-grandmother of mine.  A granddaughter of hers had become
+engaged and there was a great family meeting to introduce the poor
+victim to his future "in-laws."  The old lady was very deaf and had
+formed the habit of speaking aloud quite unconscious that others could
+hear her.  The wretched young man was brought up and presented, and
+everybody was agog to hear the grandmotherly pronouncement, for the old
+lady was as shrewd as she was frank.  She looked at the young man
+keenly and deliberately, whilst he stood the picture of discomfort, and
+turning to her granddaughter, said, "Well, my dear, I hope you'll be
+happy, I hope you'll be very happy," then to herself in an equally loud
+voice she added, "But he wouldn't have been my choice, he wouldn't have
+been my choice."
+
+"Oh! the poor dear," said Mrs. Hamilton, seeing only the tragic side of
+the situation.
+
+Patricia laughed.  "How like you, you dear little grey lady," and she
+bent down and kissed the pale cheeks, bringing a slight rose flush to
+them.
+
+It was half-past seven before Mrs. Hamilton left Patricia's room.
+
+"Heigh-ho!" sighed Patricia as she undid her hair, "I suppose I shall
+have to run the gauntlet during dinner."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+LORD PETER PROMISES A SOLUTION
+
+Sunday supper at Galvin House was a cold meal timed for eight o'clock;
+but allowed to remain upon the table until half-past nine for the
+convenience of church-goers.
+
+Patricia had dawdled over her toilette, realising, however, to admit
+that she dreaded the ordeal before her in the dining-room.  When at
+last she could find no excuse for remaining longer in her room, she
+descended the stairs slowly, conscious of a strange feeling of
+hesitancy about her knees.
+
+Outside the dining-room door she paused.  Her instinct was to bolt; but
+the pad-pad of Gustave's approaching footsteps cutting off her retreat
+decided her.  As she entered the dining-room the hum of excited
+conversation ceased abruptly and, amidst a dead silence, Patricia
+walked to her seat conscious of a heightened colour and a hatred of her
+own species.
+
+Looking round the table, and seeing how acutely self-conscious everyone
+seemed, her self-possession returned.  She noticed a new deference in
+Gustave's manner as he placed before her a plate of cold shoulder of
+mutton and held the salad-bowl at her side.  Having helped herself
+Patricia turned to Miss Wangle, and for a moment regarded her with an
+enigmatical smile that made her fidget.
+
+"How clever of you, Miss Wangle," she said sweetly.  "In future no one
+will ever dare to have a secret at Galvin House."
+
+Miss Wangle reddened.  Mr. Bolton's laugh rang out.
+
+"Miss Wangle, Private Enquiry Agent," he cried, "I----"
+
+"Really, Mr. Bolton!" protested Mrs. Craske-Morton, looking anxiously
+at Miss Wangle's indrawn lips and angry eyes.
+
+Mr. Bolton subsided.
+
+"We're so excited, dear Miss Brent," simpered Miss Sikkum.  "You'll be
+Lady Bowen----"
+
+"Lady Peter Bowen," corrected Mrs. Craske-Morton with superior
+knowledge.
+
+"Lady Peter," gushed Miss Sikkum.  "Oh how romantic, and I shall see
+your portrait in _The Mirror_.  Oh!  Miss Brent, aren't you happy?"
+
+Patricia smiled across at Miss Sikkum, whose enthusiasm was too genuine
+to cause offence.
+
+"And you'll have cars and all sorts of things," remarked Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe, thinking of he solitary blue evening frock, "he's very
+rich."
+
+"Worth ten thousand a year," almost shouted Mr. Cordal, striving to
+regain control over a piece of lettuce-leaf that fluttered from his
+lips, and having eventually to use his fingers.
+
+"You'll forget all about us," said Miss Pilkington, who in her capacity
+as a post-office supervisor daily showed her contempt for the public
+whose servant she was.
+
+"If you're nice to her," said Mr. Bolton, "she may buy her stamps at
+your place."
+
+Again Mrs. Craske-Morton's "Really, Mr. Bolton!" eased the situation.
+
+Patricia was for the most part silent.  She was thinking of the coming
+talk with Bowen.  In spite of herself she was excited at the prospect
+of seeing him again.  Miss Wangle also said little.  From time to time
+she glanced in Patricia's direction.
+
+"The Wangle's off her feed," whispered Mr. Bolton to Miss Sikkum,
+producing from her a giggle and an "Oh!  Mr. Bolton, you _are_
+dreadful."
+
+Mrs. Barnes was worrying as to whether a lord should be addressed as
+"my lord" or "sir," and if you curtsied to him, and if so how you did
+it with rheumatism in the knee.
+
+Patricia noticed with amusement the new deference with which everyone
+treated her.  Mrs. Craske-Morton, in particular, was most solicitous
+that she should make a good meal.  Miss Wangle's silence was in itself
+a tribute.  Patricia nervously waited the moment when Bowen's presence
+should be announced.
+
+When the time came Gustave rose to the occasion magnificently.
+Throwing open the dining-room door impressively and speaking with great
+distinctness he cried:
+
+"Ees Lordship is 'ere, mees," and then after a moment's pause he added,
+"'E 'as brought 'is car, mees.  It is at the door."
+
+Patricia smiled in spite of herself at Gustave's earnestness.
+
+"Very well, Gustave, say I will not be a moment," she replied and, with
+a muttered apology to Mrs. Craske-Morton, she left the table and the
+dining-room, conscious of the dramatic tension of the situation.
+
+Patricia ran down the passage leading to the lounge, then, suddenly
+remembering that haste and happiness were not in keeping with anger and
+reproach, entered the lounge with a sedateness that even Aunt Adelaide
+could not have found lacking in maidenly decorum.
+
+Bowen came across from the window and took both her hands.
+
+"Why was she allowing him to do this?" she asked herself.  "Why did she
+not reproach him, why did she thrill at his touch, why----?"
+
+She withdrew her hands sharply, looked up at him and then for no reason
+at all laughed.
+
+How absurd it all was.  It was easy to be angry with him when he was at
+the Quadrant and she at Galvin House; but with him before her, looking
+down at her with eyes that were smilingly confident and gravely
+deferential by turn, she found her anger and good resolutions disappear.
+
+"I know you are going to bully me, Patricia."  Bowen's eyes smiled; but
+there was in his voice a note of enquiry.
+
+"Oh! please let us escape before the others come in sight," said
+Patricia, looking over her shoulder anxiously.  "They'll all be out in
+a moment.  I left them straining at their leashes and swallowing
+scalding coffee so as to get a glimpse of a real, live lord at close
+quarters."
+
+As she spoke Patricia stabbed on a toque.
+
+"Shall I want anything warmer than this?" she enquired as Bowen helped
+her into a long fur-trimmed coat.
+
+"I brought a big fur coat for you in case it gets cold," he replied,
+and he held open the door for her to pass.
+
+"Quick," she whispered, "they're coming."
+
+As she ran down the steps she nodded brightly to Gustave, who stood
+almost bowed down with the burden of his respect for an English lord.
+
+As Bowen swung the car round, Patricia was conscious that at the
+drawing-room and lounge windows Galvin House was heavily massed.
+Unable to find a space, Miss Sikkum and Mr. Bolton had come out on to
+the doorstep and, as the car jerked forward, Miss Sikkum waved her
+pocket handkerchief.
+
+Patricia shuddered.
+
+For some time they were silent.  Patricia was content to enjoy the
+unaccustomed sense of swift movement coupled with the feeling of the
+luxury of a Rolls Royce.  From time to time Bowen glanced at her and
+smiled, and she was conscious of returning the smile, although in the
+light of what she intended to say she felt that smiles were not
+appropriate.
+
+The car sped along the Bayswater Road, threaded its way through
+Hammersmith Broadway and passed over the bridge, across Barnes Common
+into Priory Lane, and finally into Richmond Park.  Bowen had not
+mentioned where he intended to take her, and Patricia was glad.  She
+was essentially feminine, and liked having things decided for her, the
+more so as she invariably had to decide for herself.
+
+Half-way across the Park Bowen turned in the direction of Kingston Gate
+and, a minute later, drew up just off the roadway.  Having stopped the
+engine he turned to her.
+
+"Now, Patricia," he said with a smile, "I am at your mercy.  There is
+no one within hail."
+
+Bowen's voice recalled her from dreamland.  She was thinking how
+different everything might have been, but for that unfortunate
+unconvention.  With an effort she came down to earth to find Bowen
+smiling into her eyes.
+
+It was an effort for her to assume the indignation she had previously
+felt.  Bowen's presence seemed to dissipate her anger.  Why had she not
+written to him instead of endeavouring to express verbally what she
+knew she would fail to convey?
+
+"Please don't be too hard on me, Patricia," pleaded Bowen.
+
+Patricia looked at him.  She wished he would not smile at her in that
+way and assume an air of penitence.  It was so disarming.  It was
+unfair.  He was taking a mean advantage.  He was always taking a mean
+advantage of her, always putting her in the wrong.
+
+By keeping her face carefully averted from his, she was able to tinge
+her voice with indignation as she demanded:
+
+"Why did you not tell me who you were?"
+
+"But I did," he protested.
+
+"You said that you were Colonel Bowen, and you are not."  Patricia was
+pleased to find her sense of outraged indignation increasing.  "You
+have made me ridiculous in the eyes of everyone at Galvin House."
+
+"But," protested Bowen.
+
+"It's no good saying 'but,'" replied Patricia unreasonably, "you know
+I'm right."
+
+"But I told you my name was Bowen," he said, "and later I told you that
+my rank was that of a lieutenant-colonel, both of which are quite
+correct."
+
+"You are Lord Peter Bowen, and you've made me ridiculous," then
+conscious of the absurdity of her words, Patricia laughed; but there
+was no mirth in her laughter.
+
+"Made you ridiculous," said Bowen, concern in his voice.  "But how?"
+
+"Oh, I am not referring to your boy-messengers and telegrams, florists'
+shops, confectioners' stocks," said Patricia, "but all the tabbies in
+Galvin House set themselves to work to find out who you were
+and--and--look what an absurd figure I cut!  Then of course Aunt
+Adelaide must butt in."
+
+"Aunt Adelaide!" repeated Bowen, knitting his brows.  "Tabbies at
+Galvin House!"
+
+"If you repeat my words like that I shall scream," said Patricia.  "I
+wish you would try and be intelligent.  Miss Wangle told Aunt Adelaide
+that I'm engaged to Lord Peter Bowen.  Aunt Adelaide then asked me
+about my engagement, and I had to make up some sort of story about
+Colonel Bowen.  She then enquired if it were true that I was engaged to
+Lord Peter Bowen.  Of course I said 'No,' and that is where we are at
+present, and you've got to help me out.  You got me into the mess."
+
+"Might I enquire who Aunt Adelaide is, please, Patricia?"
+
+Bowen's humility made him very difficult to talk to.
+
+"Aunt Adelaide is my sole surviving relative, vide her own statement,"
+said Patricia.  "If I had my way she would be neither surviving nor a
+relative; but as it happens she is both, and to-morrow afternoon at
+half-past five she is coming to Galvin House to receive a full
+explanation of my conduct."
+
+Bowen compressed his lips and wrinkled his forehead; but there was
+laughter in his eyes.
+
+"It's difficult, isn't it, Patricia?" he said.
+
+"It's absurd, and please don't call me Patricia."
+
+"But we're engaged and----"
+
+"We're nothing of the sort," she said.
+
+"But we are," protested Bowen.  "I can----"
+
+"Never mind what you can do," she retorted.  "What am I to tell Aunt
+Adelaide at half-past five to-morrow evening?"
+
+"Why not tell her the truth?" said Bowen.
+
+"Isn't that just like a man?"  Patricia addressed the query to a deer
+that was eyeing the car curiously from some fifty yards distance.
+"Tell the truth," she repeated scornfully.  "But how much will that
+help us?"
+
+"Well! let's tell a lie," protested Bowen, smiling.
+
+And then Patricia did a weak and foolish thing, she laughed, and Bowen
+laughed.  Finally they sat and looked at each other helplessly.
+
+"However you got those," she nodded at the ribbons on his breast, "I
+don't know.  It was certainly not for being intelligent."
+
+For a minute Bowen did not reply.  He was apparently lost in thought.
+Presently he turned to Patricia.
+
+"Look here," he said, "by half-past five to-morrow afternoon I'll have
+found a solution.  Now can't we talk about something pleasant?"
+
+"There is nothing pleasant to talk about when Aunt Adelaide is looming
+on the horizon.  She's about the most unpleasant thing next to
+chilblains that I know."
+
+"I suppose," said Bowen tentatively, "you couldn't solve the difficulty
+by marrying me by special licence."
+
+"Marry you by special licence!" cried Patricia in amazement.
+
+"Yes, it would put everything right."
+
+"I think you must be mad," said Patricia with decision; but conscious
+that her cheeks were very hot.
+
+"I think I must be in love," was Bowen's quiet retort.  "Will you?"
+
+"Not even to escape Aunt Adelaide's interrogation would I marry you by
+special, or any other licence," said Patricia with decision.
+
+Bowen turned away, a shadow falling across his face.  Then a moment
+after, drawing his cigarette-case from his pocket, he enquired, "Shall
+we smoke?"
+
+Patricia accepted the cigarette he offered her.  She watched him as he
+lighted first hers, then his own.  She saw the frown that had settled
+upon his usually happy face, and noted the staccatoed manner in which
+he smoked.  Then she became conscious that she had been lacking in not
+only graciousness but common civility.  Instinctively she put out her
+hand and touched his coat-sleeve.
+
+"Please forgive me, I was rather a beast, wasn't I?" she said.
+
+He looked round and smiled; but the smile did not reach his eyes.
+
+"Please try and understand," she said, "and now will you drive me home?"
+
+Bowen looked at her for a moment, then, getting out of the car, started
+the engine, and without a word climbed back to his seat.
+
+The journey back was performed in silence.  At Galvin House Gustave,
+who was on the look-out, threw open the door with a flourish.
+
+In saying good night neither referred to the subject of their
+conversation.
+
+As Patricia entered, the lounge seemed suddenly to empty its contents
+into the hall.
+
+"I hope you enjoyed your ride," said Mr. Bolton.
+
+"I hate motoring," said Patricia.  Then she walked upstairs with a curt
+"Good night," leaving a group of surprised people speculating as to the
+cause of her mood, and deeply commiserating with Bowen.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+LORD PETER'S S.O.S.
+
+"The bath is ready, my lord."
+
+Lord Peter Bowen opened his eyes as if reluctant to acknowledge that
+another day had dawned.  He stretched his limbs and yawned luxuriously.
+For the next few moments he lay watching his man, Peel, as he moved
+noiselessly about the room, idly speculating as to whether such
+precision and self-repression were natural or acquired.
+
+To Bowen Peel was a source of never-ending interest.  No matter at what
+hour Bowen had seen him, Peel always appeared as if he had just shaved.
+In his every action there was purpose, and every purpose was governed
+by one law--order.  He was noiseless, wordless, selfless.  Bowen was
+convinced that were he to die suddenly and someone chance to call, Peel
+would merely say: "His Lordship is not at home, sir."
+
+Thin of face, small of stature, precise of movement, Peel possessed the
+individuality of negation.  He looked nothing in particular, seemed
+nothing in particular, did everything to perfection.  His face was a
+barrier to intimacy, his demeanour a gulf to the curious: he betrayed
+neither emotion nor confidence.  In short he was the most perfect
+gentleman's servant in existence.
+
+"What's the time, Peel?" enquired Bowen.
+
+"Seven forty-three, my lord," replied the meticulous Peel, glancing at
+the clock on the mantel-piece.
+
+"Have I any engagements to-day?" queried his master.
+
+"No, my lord.  You have refused to make any since last Thursday
+morning."
+
+Then Bowen remembered.  He had pleaded pressure at the War Office as an
+excuse for declining all invitations.  He was determined that nothing
+should interfere with his seeing Patricia should she unbend.  With the
+thought of Patricia returned the memory of the previous night's events.
+Bowen cursed himself for the mess he had made of things.  Every act of
+his had seemed to result only in one thing, the angering of Patricia.
+Even then things might have gone well if it had not been for his
+wretched bad luck in being the son of a peer.
+
+As he lay watching Peel, Bowen felt in a mood to condole with himself.
+Confound it!  Surely it could not be urged against him as his fault
+that he had a wretched title.  He had been given no say in the matter.
+As for telling Patricia, could he immediately on meeting her blurt out,
+"I'm a lord?"  Supposing he had introduced himself as
+"Lieutenant-Colonel Lord Peter Bowen."  How ridiculous it would have
+sounded.  He had come to hate the very sound of the word "lord."
+
+"It's ten minutes to eight, my lord."
+
+It was Peel's voice that broke in upon his reflections.
+
+"Oh, damn!" cried Bowen as he threw his legs out of bed and sat looking
+at Peel.
+
+"I beg pardon, my lord?"
+
+"I said damn!" replied Bowen.
+
+"Yes, my lord."
+
+Bowen regarded Peel narrowly.  He was confoundedly irritating this
+morning.  He seemed to be my-lording his master specially to annoy him.
+There was, however, no sign upon Peel's features or in his watery blue
+eyes indicating that he was other than in his normal frame of mind.
+
+Why couldn't Patricia be sensible?  Why must she take up this absurd
+attitude, contorting every action of his into a covert insult?  Why
+above all things couldn't women be reasonable?  Bowen rose, stretched
+himself and walked across to the bath-room.  As he was about to enter
+he looked over his shoulder.
+
+"If," he said, "you can arrange to remind me of my infernal title as
+little as possible during the next few days, Peel, I shall feel
+infinitely obliged."
+
+"Yes, my lord," was the response.
+
+Bowen banged the door savagely, and Peel rang to order breakfast.
+
+During the meal Bowen pondered over the events of the previous evening,
+and in particular over Patricia's unreasonableness.  His one source of
+comfort was that she had appealed to him to put things right about her
+aunt.  That would involve his seeing her again.  He did not, or would
+not, see that he was the only one to whom she could appeal.
+
+Bowen always breakfasted in his own sitting-room; he disliked his
+fellow-men in the early morning.  Looking up suddenly from the table he
+caught Peel's expressionless eye upon him.
+
+"Peel."
+
+"Yes, my lord."
+
+"Why is it that we Englishmen dislike each other so at breakfast?"
+
+Peel paused for a moment.  "I've heard it said, my lord, that we're
+half an inch taller in the morning, perhaps our perceptions are more
+acute also."
+
+Bowen looked at Peel curiously.
+
+"You're a philosopher," he said, "and I'm afraid a bit of a cynic."
+
+"I hope not, my lord," responded Peel.
+
+Bowen pushed back his chair and rose, receiving from Peel his cap,
+cane, and gloves.
+
+"By the way," he said, "I want you to ring up Lady Tanagra and ask her
+to lunch with me at half-past one.  Tell her it's very important, and
+ask her not to fail me."
+
+"Yes, my lord: it shall be attended to."
+
+Bowen went out.  Lady Tanagra was Bowen's only sister.  As children
+they had been inseparable, forced into an alliance by the overbearing
+nature of their elder brother, the heir, Viscount Bowen, who would
+succeed to the title as the eighth Marquess of Meyfield.  Bowen was
+five years older than his sister, who had just passed her twenty-third
+birthday and, as a frail sensitive child, she had instinctively looked
+to him for protection against her elder brother.
+
+Their comradeship was that of mutual understanding.  For one to say to
+the other, "Don't fail me," meant that any engagement, however
+pressing, would be put off.  There was a tacit acknowledgment that
+their comradeship stood before all else.  Each to the other was unique.
+Thus when Bowen sent the message to Lady Tanagra through Peel asking
+her not to fail him, he knew that she would keep the appointment.  He
+knew equally well that it would involve her in the breaking of some
+other engagement, for there were few girls in London so popular as Lady
+Tanagra Bowen.
+
+Whenever there was an important social function, Lady Tanagra Bowen was
+sure to be there, and it was equally certain that the photographers of
+the illustrated and society papers would so manoeuvre that she came
+into the particular group, or groups, they were taking.
+
+The seventh Marquess of Meyfield was an enthusiastic collector of
+Tanagra figurines and, overruling his lady's protestations, he had
+determined to call his first and only daughter Tanagra.  Lady Meyfield
+had begged for a second name; but the Marquess had been resolute.
+"Tanagra I will have her christened and Tanagra I will have her
+called," he had said with a smile that, if it mitigated the sternness
+of his expression, did not in my way undermine his determination.  Lady
+Meyfield knew her lord, and also that her only chance of ruling him was
+by showing unfailing tact.  She therefore bowed to his decision.
+
+"Poor child!" she had remarked as she looked down at the frail little
+mite in the hollow of her arm, "you're certainly going to be made
+ridiculous; but I've done my best," and Lord Meyfield had come across
+the room and kissed his wife with the remark, "There you're wrong, my
+dear, it's going to help to make her a great success.  Imagine, the
+Lady Tanagra Bowen; why it would make a celebrity of the most
+commonplace female," whereat they had both smiled.
+
+As a child Lady Tanagra had been teased unmercifully about her name, so
+much so that she had almost hated it; but later when she had come to
+love the figurines that were so much part of her father's life, she had
+learned, not only to respect, but to be proud of the name.
+
+To her friends and intimates she was always Tan, to the less intimate
+Lady Tan, and to the world at large Lady Tanagra Bowen.
+
+She had once found the name extremely useful, when in process of being
+proposed to by an undesirable of the name of Black.
+
+"It's no good," she had said, "I could never marry you, no matter what
+the state of my feelings.  Think how ridiculous we should both be,
+everybody would call us Black and Tan.  Ugh! it sounds like a whisky as
+well as a dog."  Whereat Mr. Black had laughed and they remained
+friends, which was a great tribute to Lady Tanagra.
+
+Exquisitely pretty, sympathetic, witty, human!  Lady Tanagra Bowen was
+a favourite wherever she went.  She seemed incapable of making enemies
+even amongst her own sex.  Her taste in dress was as unerring as in
+literature and art.  Everything she did or said was without effort.
+She had been proposed to by "half the eligibles and all the ineligibles
+in London," as Bowen phrased it; but she declared she would never marry
+until Peter married, and had thus got somebody else to mother him.
+
+At a quarter-past one when Bowen left the War Office, he found Lady
+Tanagra waiting in her car outside.
+
+"Hullo, Tan!" he cried, "what a brainy idea, picking up the poor, tired
+warrior."
+
+"It'll save you a taxi, Peter.  I'll tell you what to do with the
+shilling as we go along."
+
+Lady Tanagra smiled up into her brother's face.  She was always happy
+with Peter.
+
+As she swung the car across Whitehall to get into the north-bound
+stream of traffic, Bowen looked down at his sister.  She handled her
+big car with dexterity and ease.  She was a dainty creature with
+regular features, violet-blue eyes and golden hair that seemed to defy
+all constraint.  There was a tilt about her chin that showed
+determination, and that about her eyebrows which suggested something
+more than good judgment.
+
+"I hope you weren't doing anything to-day, Tan," said Bowen as they
+came to a standstill at the top of Whitehall, waiting for the removal
+of a blue arm that barred their progress.
+
+"I was lunching with the Bolsovers; but I'm not well enough, I'm
+afraid, to see them.  It's measles, you know."
+
+"Good heavens, Tan! what do you mean?"
+
+"Well, I had to say something that would be regarded as a sufficient
+excuse for breaking a luncheon engagement of three weeks' standing.
+Quite a lot of people were invited to meet me."
+
+"I'm awfully sorry," began Bowen apologetically.
+
+"Oh, it's all right!" was the reply as the car jumped forward.  "I
+shall be deluged with fruit and flowers now from all sorts of people,
+because the Bolsovers are sure to spread it round that I'm in extremis.
+To-morrow, however, I shall announce that it was a wrong diagnosis."
+
+Lady Tanagra drew the car up to the curb outside Dent's.  "I think,"
+she said, indicating an old woman selling matches, "we'll give her the
+shilling for the taxi, Peter, shall we?"
+
+Peter beckoned the old woman and handed her a shilling with a smile.
+
+"Does it make you feel particularly virtuous to be charitable with
+another's money?" he enquired.
+
+Lady Tanagra made a grimace.
+
+Over lunch they talked upon general topics and about common friends.
+Lady Tanagra made no reference to the important matter that had caused
+her to be summoned to lunch, even at the expense of having measles as
+an excuse.  That was characteristic of her.  She had nothing of a
+woman's curiosity, at least she never showed it, particularly with
+Peter.
+
+After lunch they went to the lounge for coffee.  When they had been
+served and both were smoking, Bowen remarked casually, "Got any
+engagement for this afternoon, Tan?"
+
+"Tea at the Carlton at half-past four, then I promised to run in to see
+the Grahams before dinner.  I'm afraid it will mean more flowers and
+fruit.  Oh!" she replied, "I suppose I must stick to measles.  I shall
+have to buy some thanks for kind enquiries cards as I go home."
+
+During lunch Bowen had been wondering how he could approach the subject
+of Patricia.  He could not tell even Tanagra how he had met her--that
+was Patricia's secret.  If she chose to tell, that was another matter;
+but he could not.  As a rule he found it easy to talk to Tanagra and
+explain things; but this was a little unusual.  Lady Tanagra watched
+him shrewdly for a minute or two.
+
+"I think I should just say it as it comes, Peter," she remarked in a
+casual, matter-of-fact tone.
+
+Bowen started and then laughed.
+
+"What I want is a sponsor for an acquaintanceship between myself and a
+girl.  I cannot tell you everything, Tan, she may decide to; but of
+course you know it's all right."
+
+"Why, of course," broke in Lady Tanagra with an air of conviction which
+contained something of a reproach that he should have thought it
+necessary to mention such a thing.
+
+"Well, you've got to do a bit of lying, too, I'm afraid."
+
+"Oh! that will be all right.  The natural consequence of a high
+temperature through measles."  Lady Tanagra saw that Bowen was ill at
+ease, and sought by her lightness to simplify things for him.
+
+"How long have I known her?" she proceeded.
+
+"Oh! that you had better settle with her.  All that is necessary is for
+you to have met her somewhere, or somehow, and to have introduced me to
+her."
+
+"And who is to receive these explanations?" enquired Lady Tanagra.
+
+"Her aunt, a gorgon."
+
+"Does the girl know that you are--that I am to throw myself into the
+breach?"
+
+"No," said Peter, "I didn't think to tell her.  I said that I would
+arrange things.  Her name's Patricia Brent.  She's private secretary to
+Arthur Bonsor of 426 Eaton Square, and she lives at Galvin House
+Residential Hotel, to give it its full title, 8 Galvin Street,
+Bayswater.  Her aunt is to be at Galvin House at half-past five this
+afternoon, when I have to be explained to her.  Oh! it's most devilish
+awkward, Tan, because I can't tell you the facts of the case.  I wish
+she were here."
+
+"That's all right, Peter.  I'll put things right.  What time does she
+leave Eaton Square?"
+
+"Five o'clock, I think."
+
+"Good! leave it to me.  By the way, where shall you be if I want to get
+at you?"
+
+"When?"
+
+"Say six o'clock."
+
+"I'll be back here at six and wait until seven."
+
+"That will do.  Now I really must be going.  I've got to telephone to
+these people about the measles.  Shall I run you down to Whitehall?"
+
+"No, thanks, I think I'll walk," and with that he saw her into her car
+and turned to walk back to Whitehall, thanking his stars for being
+possessed of such a sister and marvelling at her wisdom.  He had not
+the most remote idea of how she would achieve her purpose; but achieve
+it he was convinced she would.  It was notorious that Lady Tanagra
+never failed in anything she undertook.
+
+While Bowen and his sister were lunching at the Quadrant, Patricia was
+endeavouring to concentrate her mind upon her work.  "The egregious
+Arthur," as she called him to herself in her more impatient moments,
+had been very trying that morning.  He had been in a particularly
+indeterminate mood, which involved the altering and changing of almost
+every sentence he dictated.  In the usual way he was content to tell
+Patricia what he wanted to say, and let her clothe it in fitting words;
+but this morning he had insisted on dictating every letter, with the
+result that her notes had become hopelessly involved and she was
+experiencing great difficulty in reading them.  Added to this was the
+fact that she could not keep her thoughts from straying to Aunt
+Adelaide.  What would happen that afternoon?  What was Bowen going to
+do to save the situation?  He had promised to see her through; but how
+was he going to do it?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+LADY TANAGRA TAKES A HAND
+
+At a quarter to five Patricia left the library to go upstairs to put on
+her hat and coat.  In the hall she encountered Mrs. Bonsor.
+
+"Finished?" interrogated that lady in a tone of voice that implied she
+was perfectly well aware of the fact that it wanted still a quarter of
+an hour to the time at which Patricia was supposed to be free.
+
+"No; there is still some left; but I'm going home," said Patricia.
+There was something in her voice and appearance that prompted Mrs.
+Bonsor to smile her artificial smile and remark that she thought
+Patricia was quite right, the weather being very trying.
+
+When she left the Bonsors' house, Patricia was too occupied with her
+own thoughts to notice the large grey car standing a few yards up the
+square with a girl at the steering-wheel.  Patricia turned in the
+opposite direction from that in which the car stood, making her way
+towards Sloane Street to get her bus.  She had not gone many steps when
+the big car slid silently up beside her, and she heard a voice say,
+"Can't I give you a lift to Galvin House?"
+
+She turned round and saw a fair-haired girl smiling at her from the car.
+
+"I--I----"
+
+"Jump in, won't you?" said the girl.
+
+"But--but I think you've made a mistake."
+
+"You're Patricia Brent, aren't you?"
+
+"Yes," said Patricia, smiling, "that's my name."
+
+"Well then, jump in and I'll run you up to Galvin House.  Don't delay
+or you'll be too late for your aunt."
+
+Patricia looked at the girl in mute astonishment, but proceeded to get
+into the car, there seemed nothing else to be done.  As she did so, the
+fair-haired girl laughed brightly.  "It's awfully mean of me to take
+such an advantage, but I couldn't resist it.  I'm Peter's sister,
+Tanagra."
+
+"Oh!" said Patricia, light dawning upon her and turning to Tanagra with
+a smile, "Then you're the solution?"
+
+"Yes," said Lady Tanagra, "I'm going to see you two out of the mess
+you've somehow or other got into."
+
+Suddenly Patricia stiffened.  "Did he--did he--er--tell you?"
+
+"Not he," said Lady Tanagra, shoving on the brake suddenly to avoid a
+crawling taxi that had swung round without any warning.  "Peter doesn't
+talk."
+
+"But then, how do you----?"
+
+"Well," said Lady Tanagra, "he told me that I was to be the one who had
+introduced him to you and explain him to your aunt.  It's all over
+London that I've got measles, and there will be simply piles of flowers
+and fruit arriving at Grosvenor Square by every possible conveyance."
+
+"Measles!" cried Patricia uncomprehendingly.
+
+"Yes, you see when Peter wants me I always have to throw up any sort of
+engagement, and he does the same for me.  When he asked me to lunch
+with him to-day and said it was important, I had to give some
+reasonable excuse to three lots of people to whom I had pledged myself,
+and I thought measles would do quite nicely."
+
+Patricia laughed in spite of herself.
+
+"So you don't know anything except that you have got to----"
+
+"Sponsor you," interrupted Lady Tanagra.
+
+For some time Patricia was silent.  She felt she could tell her story
+to this girl who was so trustful that everything was all right, and who
+was willing to do anything to help her brother.
+
+"Can't we go slowly whilst I talk to you," said Patricia, as they
+turned into the Park.
+
+"We'll do better than that," said Lady Tanagra, "we'll stop and sit
+down for five minutes."  She pulled up the car near the Stanhope Gate
+and they found a quiet spot under a tree.
+
+"I cannot allow you to enter into this affair," said Patricia, "without
+telling you the whole story.  What you will think of me afterwards I
+don't know; but I've got myself into a most horrible mess."
+
+She then proceeded to explain the whole situation, how it came about
+that she had come to know Bowen and the upshot of the meeting.  Lady
+Tanagra listened without interruption and without betraying by her
+expression what were her thoughts.
+
+"And now what do you think of me?" demanded Patricia when she had
+concluded.
+
+For a moment Lady Tanagra rested her hand upon Patricia's.  "I think,
+you goose, that had you known Peter better there would not have been so
+much need for you to worry; but there isn't much time and we've got to
+prepare.  Now listen carefully.  First of all you must call me Tan or
+Tanagra, and I must call you Patricia or Pat, or whatever you like.
+Secondly, as it would take too long to find out if we've got any
+friends in common, you went to the V.A.D. Depot in St. George's
+Crescent to see if you could do anything to help.  There you met me.
+I'm quite a shining light there, by the way, and we palled up.  This
+led to my introducing Peter and--well all the rest is quite easy."
+
+"But--but there isn't any rest," said Patricia.  "Don't you see how
+horribly awkward it is?  I'm supposed to be engaged to him."
+
+"Oh!" said Lady Tanagra quietly, "that's a matter for you and Peter to
+settle between you.  I'm afraid I can't interfere there.  All I can do
+is to explain how you and he came to know each other; and now we had
+better be getting on as your aunt will not be pleased if you keep her
+waiting.  What I propose to do is to pick her up and take her up to the
+Quadrant where we shall find Peter."
+
+"But," protested Patricia, "that's simply getting us more involved than
+ever."
+
+"Well, I'm afraid it's got to be," said Lady Tanagra, smiling
+mischievously; "it's much better that they should meet at the Quadrant
+than at Galvin House, where you say everybody is so catty."
+
+Patricia saw the force of Lady Tanagra's argument, and they were soon
+whirling on their way towards Galvin House.  She wanted to pinch
+herself to be quite sure that she was not dreaming.  Everything seemed
+to be happening with such rapidity that her brain refused to keep pace
+with events.  Why had she not met these people in a conventional way so
+that she might preserve their friendship?  It was hard luck, she told
+herself.
+
+"Would you mind telling me what you propose doing?" enquired Patricia.
+
+"I promised Peter to gather up the pieces," was the response.  "All
+you've got to do is to remain quiet."
+
+Lady Tanagra brought the car up in front of Galvin House with a
+magnificent sweep.  Gustave, who had been on the watch, swung open the
+door in his most impressive manner.
+
+As Patricia and Lady Tanagra entered the lounge, Miss Wangle and Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe were addressing pleasantries to a particularly grim
+Miss Brent.
+
+"Oh, here you are!"  Miss Brent's exclamation was uttered in such a
+voice as to pierce even the thick skin of Miss Wangle, who having
+instantly recognised Lady Tanagra, retired with Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe a
+few yards, where they carried on a whispered conversation, casting
+significant glances at Lady Tanagra, Miss Brent and Patricia.
+
+"I told Patricia that it was time the families met," said Lady Tanagra,
+"and so I insisted on coming when I heard you were to be here."
+
+"I think you are quite right."
+
+Patricia was surprised at the change in her aunt.  Much of her usual
+uncompromising downrightness had been shed, and she appeared almost
+gracious.  For one thing she was greatly impressed at the thought that
+Patricia was to become Lady Peter Bowen.  As the aunt of Lady Peter
+Bowen, Miss Brent saw that her own social position would be
+considerably improved.  She saw herself taking precedence at Little
+Milstead and issuing its social life and death warrants.  Apart from
+these considerations Miss Brent was not indifferent to Lady Tanagra's
+personal charm.
+
+"Tan's parlour tricks," as Godfrey Elton called them, were notorious.
+Everyone was aware of their existence; yet everyone fell an instant
+victim.  A compound of earnestness, deference, pleading, irresistible
+impertinence and dignity, they formed a dangerous weapon.
+
+Lady Tanagra's position among her friends and acquaintance was unique.
+When difficulties and contentions arose, the parties' instinctive
+impulse was to endeavour to invest her interest.  "Tanagra is so
+sensible," outraged parenthood would exclaim; "Tan's such a sport.
+She'll understand," cried rebellious youth.  People not only asked Lady
+Tanagra's advice, but took it.  The secret of her success, unknown to
+herself, was her knowledge of human nature.  Even those against whom
+she gave her decisions bore her no ill-will.
+
+Her manner towards Miss Brent was a mixture of laughter and
+seriousness, with deft little touches of deference.
+
+"I've come to apologize for everybody and everything, Miss Brent," she
+cried; "but in particular for myself."  Lady Tanagra chatted on gaily,
+"sparring for an opening," Elton called it.
+
+"You mustn't blame Patricia," she bubbled in her soft musical voice,
+"it's all Peter's fault, and where it's not his fault it's mine," she
+proceeded illogically.  "You won't be hard on us, will you?"  She
+looked up at Miss Brent with the demureness of a child expecting severe
+rebuke for some naughtiness.
+
+Miss Brent's eyes narrowed and the firm line of her lips widened.
+Patricia recognised this as the outward evidences of a smile.
+
+"I confess, I am greatly puzzled," began Miss Brent.
+
+"Of course you must be," continued Lady Tanagra, "and if you were not
+so kind you would be very cross, especially with me.  Now," she
+continued, without giving Miss Brent a chance of replying, "I want you
+to do me a very great favour."
+
+Lady Tanagra paused impressively, and gave Miss Brent her most pleading
+look.
+
+Miss Brent looked at Lady Tanagra with just a tinge of suspicion in her
+pea-soup coloured eyes.
+
+"May I ask what it is?" she enquired guardedly.
+
+"I want you to let me carry you off to a quiet place where we can talk."
+
+Miss Brent rose at once.  She disliked Calvin House and the inquisitive
+glances of its inmates.
+
+"I told Peter to be at the Quadrant until seven.  He is very anxious to
+meet you," continued Lady Tanagra as they moved towards the door.  "I
+would not let him come here as I thought, from that Patricia has told
+me, that you would not care--to----" She paused.
+
+"You are quite right, Lady Tanagra," said Miss Brent with decision.  "I
+do not like boarding-houses.  They are not the places for the
+discussion of family affairs."
+
+Patricia descended the steps of Galvin House, not quite sure whether
+this were reality or a dream.  She watched Miss Brent seat herself
+beside Lady Tanagra, whilst she herself entered the tonneau of the car.
+As the door clicked and the car sprang forward, she caught a glimpse of
+eager faces at the windows of Galvin House.
+
+As they swung into the Park and hummed along the even road, Patricia
+endeavoured to bring herself to earth.  She pinched herself until it
+hurt.  What had happened?  She felt like someone present at her own
+funeral.  Her fate was being decided without anyone seeming to think it
+necessary to consult her.
+
+"By half-past five to-morrow afternoon I shall have found a solution."
+Bowen's words came back to her.  He was right.  Lady Tanagra was indeed
+a solution.  Patricia and Miss Brent were merely lay-figures.  It must
+be wonderful to be able to make people do what you wished, she mused.
+She wondered what would have happened had Bowen possessed his sister's
+powers.
+
+At the Quadrant Peel was waiting in the vestibule.  With a bow that
+impressed Miss Brent, he conducted them to Bowen's suite.  As they
+entered Bowen sprang up from a writing-table.  Patricia noticed that
+there was no smell of tobacco smoke.  The Bowens were a wonderful
+family, she decided, remembering her aunt's prejudices.
+
+"I have only just heard you were in town," she heard Bowen explaining
+to Miss Brent.  "I rang up Patricia this morning, but she could not
+remember your address."
+
+Patricia gasped; but, seeing the effect of the "grey lie" (it was not
+quite innocent enough to be called a white lie, she told herself) she
+forgave it.
+
+During tea Lady Tanagra and Bowen set to to "play themselves in," as
+Lady Tanagra afterwards expressed it.
+
+"Poor Aunt Adelaide," Patricia murmured to herself, "they'll turn her
+giddy young head."
+
+"And now," Lady Tanagra began when Bowen had taken Miss Brent's cup
+from her.  "I must explain all about this little romance and how it
+came about."
+
+Patricia caught Bowen's eye, and saw in it a look of eager interest.
+
+"Patricia wanted to do war work in her spare time," continued Lady
+Tanagra, "so she applied to the V.A.D. at St. George's Crescent.  I am
+on the committee and, by a happy chance," Lady Tanagra smiled across to
+Patricia, "she was sent to me.  I saw she was not strong and dissuaded
+her."
+
+Miss Brent nodded approval.
+
+"I explained," continued Lady Tanagra, "that the work was very hard,
+and that it was not necessarily patriotic to overwork so as to get ill.
+Doctors have quite enough to do."
+
+Again Miss Brent nodded agreement.
+
+"I think we liked each other from the first," again Lady Tanagra smiled
+across at Patricia, "and I asked her to come and have tea with me, and
+we became friends.  Finally, one day when we were enjoying a quiet talk
+here in the lounge, this big brother of mine comes along and spoils
+everything."  Lady Tanagra regarded Bowen with reproachful eyes.
+
+"Spoiled everything?" enquired Miss Brent.
+
+"Yes; by falling in love with my friend, and in a most treacherous
+manner she must do the same."  Lady Tanagra's tone was matter-of-fact
+enough to deceive a misanthropist.
+
+Patricia's cheeks burned and her eyes fell beneath the gaze of the
+others.  She felt as a man might who reads his own obituary notices.
+
+"And why was I not told, her sole surviving relative?"  Miss Brent
+rapped out the question with the air of a counsel for the prosecution.
+
+"That was my fault," broke in Bowen.
+
+Three pairs of eyes were instantly turned upon him.  Miss Brent
+suspicious, Lady Tanagra admiring, Patricia wondering.
+
+"And why, may I ask?" enquired Miss Brent.
+
+"I wanted it to be a secret between Patricia and me," explained Bowen
+easily.
+
+"But, Lady Tanagra----"  There was a note in Miss Brent's voice that
+Patricia recognised as a soldier does the gas-gong.
+
+"Oh!" replied Bowen, "she finds out everything; but I only told her at
+lunch to-day."
+
+"And he told me as if I had not already discovered the fact for
+myself," laughed Lady Tanagra.
+
+"Patricia wanted to tell you," continued Bowen.  "She has often talked
+of you (Patricia felt sure Aunt Adelaide must hear her start of
+surprise); but I wanted to wait until we could go to you together and
+confess."  Bowen smiled straight into his listener's eyes, a quiet,
+friendly smile that would have disarmed a gorgon.
+
+For a few moments there was silence.  Miss Brent was thinking, thinking
+as a judge thinks who is about to deliver sentence.
+
+"And Lady Meyfield, does she know?" she enquired.
+
+Without giving Bowen a chance to reply Lady Tanagra rushed in as if
+fearful that he might make a false move.
+
+"That is another of Peter's follies, keeping it from mother.  He argued
+that if the engagement were officially announced, the family would take
+up all Patricia's time, and he would see nothing of her.  Oh! Peter's
+very selfish sometimes, I am to say; but," she added with inspiration,
+"every thing will have to come out now."
+
+"Of course!"  Patricia started at the decision in Miss Brent's tone.
+She looked across at Bowen, who was regarding Lady Tanagra with an
+admiration that amounted almost to reverence.  As he looked up
+Patricia's eyes fell.  What was happening to her?  She was getting
+further into the net woven by her own folly.  Lady Tanagra was getting
+them out of the tangle into which they had got themselves; but was she
+not involving them in a worse?  Patricia knew her aunt, Lady Tanagra
+did not.  Therein lay the key to the whole situation.
+
+Miss Brent rose to go.  Patricia saw that judgment was to be deferred.
+She shook hands with Lady Tanagra and Bowen and, finally, turning to
+Patricia said:
+
+"I think, Patricia, that you have been very indiscreet in not taking me
+into your confidence, your sole surviving relative," and with that she
+went, having refused Lady Tanagra's offer to drive her to her hotel,
+pleading that she had another call to make.
+
+When Bowen returned from seeing Miss Brent into a taxi, the three
+culprits regarded each other.  All felt that they had come under the
+ban of Miss Brent's displeasure.  It was Lady Tanagra who broke the
+silence.
+
+"Well, we're all in it now up to the neck," she laughed.
+
+Bowen smiled happily; but Patricia looked alarmed.  Lady Tanagra went
+over to her and bending down kissed her lightly on the cheek.  Patricia
+looked up, and Bowen saw that her eyes were suspiciously moist.  With a
+murmured apology about a note he was expecting he left the room.
+
+That night the three dined at the Quadrant, "to get to know each
+other," as Lady Tanagra said.  When Patricia reached Galvin House,
+having refused to allow Bowen to see her home, she was conscious of
+having spent another happy evening.
+
+"Up to the neck in it," she murmured as she tossed back her hair and
+began to brush it for the night, "over the top of our heads, I should
+say."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+MISS BRENT'S STRATEGY
+
+Having become reconciled to what she regarded as Patricia's matrimonial
+plans, although strongly disapproving of her deplorable flippancy, Miss
+Brent decided that her niece's position must be established in the eyes
+of her prospective relatives-in-law.
+
+Miss Brent was proud of her family, but still prouder of the fact that
+the founder had come over with that extremely dubious collection of
+notables introduced into England by William of Normandy.  To Miss
+Brent, William the Conqueror was what _The Mayflower_ is to all
+ambitious Americans--a social jumping-off point.  There were no army
+lists in 1066, or passengers' lists in 1620.
+
+No one could say with any degree of certainty what it was that Geoffrey
+Brent did for, or knew about, his ducal master; but it was sufficiently
+important to gain for him a grant of lands, which he had no more right
+to occupy than the Norman had to bestow.
+
+After careful thought Miss Brent had decided upon her line of
+operations.  Geoffrey Brent was to be used as a corrective to
+Patricia's occupation.  No family, Miss Brent argued, could be expected
+to welcome with open arms a girl who earned her living as the secretary
+of an unknown member of parliament.  She foresaw complications, fierce
+opposition, possibly an attempt to break off the engagement.  To defeat
+this Geoffrey Brent was to be disinterred and flung into the conflict,
+and Patricia was to owe to her aunt the happiness that was to be hers.
+Incidentally Miss Brent saw in this circumstance a very useful
+foundation upon which to build for herself a position in the future.
+
+Miss Brent had made up her mind upon two points.  One that she would
+call upon Lady Meyfield, the other that Patricia's engagement must be
+announced.  Debrett told her all she wanted to know about the Bowens,
+and she strongly disapproved of what she termed "hole-in-the-corner
+engagements."  The marriage of a Brent to a Bowen was to her an
+alliance, carrying with it certain social responsibilities,
+consequently Society must be advised of what was impending.  Romance
+was a by-product that did not concern either Miss Brent or Society.
+
+Purpose and decision were to Miss Brent what wings and tail are to the
+swallow: they propelled and directed her.  Her mind once made up, to
+change it would have appeared to Miss Brent an unpardonable sign of
+weakness.  Circumstances might alter, thrones totter, but Miss Brent's
+decisions would remain unshaken.
+
+On the day following her meeting with Lady Tanagra and Bowen, Miss
+Brent did three things.  She transferred to "The Mayfair Hotel" for one
+night, she prepared an announcement of the engagement for _The Morning
+Post_, and she set out to call upon Lady Meyfield in Grosvenor Square.
+
+The transference to "The Mayfair Hotel" served a double purpose.  It
+would impress the people at the newspaper office, and it would also
+show that Patricia's kinswoman was of some importance.
+
+As Patricia was tapping out upon a typewriter the halting eloquence of
+Mr. Arthur Bonsor, Miss Brent was being whirled in a taxi first to the
+office of _The Morning Post_ and then on to Grosvenor Square.
+
+"I fully appreciate," tapped Patricia with wandering attention, "the
+national importance of pigs."
+
+
+"Miss Brent!" announced Lady Meyfield's butler.
+
+Miss Brent found herself gazing into a pair of violet eyes that were
+smiling a greeting out of a gentle face framed in white hair.
+
+"How do you do!"  Lady Meyfield was endeavouring to recall where she
+could have met her caller.
+
+"I felt it was time the families met," announced Miss Brent.
+
+Lady Meyfield smiled, that gentle reluctant smile so characteristic of
+her.  She was puzzled; but too well-bred to show it.
+
+"Won't you have some tea?"  She looked about her, then fixing her eyes
+upon a dark man in khaki, with smouldering eyes, called to him,
+introduced him, and had just time to say:
+
+"Godfrey, see that Miss Brent has some tea," when a rush of callers
+swept Miss Brent and Captain Godfrey Elton further into the room.
+
+Miss Brent looked about her with interest.  She had read of how Lady
+Meyfield had turned her houses, both town and country, into
+convalescent homes for soldiers; but she was surprised to see men in
+hospital garb mixing freely with the other guests.  Elton saw her
+surprise.
+
+"Lady Meyfield has her own ideas of what is best," he remarked as he
+handed her a cup of tea.
+
+Miss Brent looked up interrogatingly.
+
+"She had some difficulty at first," continued Elton; "but eventually
+she got her own way as she always does.  Now the official hospitals
+send her their most puzzling cases and she cures them."
+
+"How?" enquired Miss Brent with interest.
+
+"Imagination," said Elton, bowing to a pretty brunette at the other
+side of the room.  "She is too wise to try and fatten a canary on a dog
+biscuit."
+
+"Does she keep canaries then?" enquired Miss Brent.
+
+"I'm afraid that was only my clumsy effort at metaphor," responded
+Elton with a disarming smile.  "She adopts human methods.  They are
+generally successful."
+
+Elton went on to describe something of the success that had attended
+Lady Meyfield's hostels, as she called them.  They were famous
+throughout the Service.  When war broke out someone had suggested that
+she should use her tact and knowledge of human nature in treating cases
+that defied the army M.O.'s.  "A tyrant is the first victim of tact,"
+Godfrey Elton had said of Lord Meyfield, and in his ready acquiescence
+in his lady's plans Lord Meyfield had tacitly concurred.
+
+Lady Meyfield had conferred with her lord in respect to all her plans
+and arrangements, until he had come to regard the hostels as the
+children of his own brain, admirably controlled and conducted by his
+wife.  He seldom appeared, keeping to the one place free from the flood
+of red, white, and blue--his library.  Here with his books and
+terra-cottas he "grew old with a grace worthy of his rank," as Elton
+phrased it.
+
+Lady Meyfield's "cases" were mostly those of shell-shock, or nervous
+troubles.  She studied each patient's needs, and decided whether he
+required diversion or quiet: if diversion, he was sent to her town
+house; if quiet, he went to one of her country houses.
+
+At first it had been thought that a woman could not discipline a number
+of men; but Lady Meyfield had settled this by allowing them to
+discipline themselves.  All misdemeanours were reported to and judged
+by a committee of five elected by ballot from among the patients.
+Their decisions were referred to Lady Meyfield for ratification.  The
+result was that in no military hospital, or convalescent home, in the
+country was the discipline so good.
+
+Miss Brent listened perfunctorily to Elton's description of Lady
+Meyfield's success.  She had not come to Grosvenor Square to hear about
+hostels, or the curing of shell-shocked soldiers, and her eyes roved
+restlessly about the room.
+
+"You know Lord Peter?" she enquired at length.
+
+"Intimately," Elton replied as he took her cup from her.
+
+"Do you like him?"  Miss Brent was always direct.
+
+"Unquestionably."  Elton's tone was that of a man who found nothing
+unusual either in the matter or method of interrogation.
+
+"Is he steady?" was the next question.
+
+"As a rock," responded Elton, beginning to enjoy a novel experience.
+
+"Why doesn't he live here?" demanded Miss Brent.
+
+"Who, Peter?"
+
+Miss Brent nodded.
+
+"No room.  The soldiers, you know," he added.
+
+"No room for her own son?"  Miss Brent's tone was in itself an
+accusation against Lady Meyfield of unnaturalness.
+
+"Oh!  Peter understands," was Elton's explanation.
+
+"Oh!"  Miss Brent looked sharply at him.  For a minute there was
+silence.
+
+"You have been wounded?"  Miss Brent indicated the blue band upon his
+arm.  Her question arose, not from any interest she felt; but she
+required time in which to reorganise her attack.
+
+"I am only waiting for my final medical board, as I hope," Elton
+replied.
+
+"You know Lady Tanagra?"  Miss Brent was feeling some annoyance with
+this extremely self-possessed young man.
+
+"Yes," was Elton's reply.  He wondered if the next question would deal
+with her steadiness.
+
+"I suppose you are a friend of the family?" was Miss Brent's next
+question.
+
+Elton bowed.
+
+"Good afternoon, sir."  The speaker was a soldier in hospital blue, a
+rugged little man known among his fellows as "Uncle."
+
+"Hullo!  Uncle, how are you?" said Elton, shaking hands.
+
+Miss Brent noticed a warmth in Elton's tone that was in marked contrast
+to the even tone of courtesy with which he had answered her questions.
+
+"Oh, just 'oppin' on to 'eaven, sir," replied Uncle.  "Sort of sittin'
+up an' takin' notice."
+
+Elton introduced Uncle to Miss Brent, an act that seemed to her quite
+unnecessary.
+
+"And where were you wounded?" asked Miss Brent conventionally.
+
+"Clean through the buttocks, mum," replied Uncle simply.
+
+Miss Brent flushed and cast a swift glance at Elton, whose face showed
+no sign.  She turned to Uncle and regarded him severely; but he was
+blissfully unaware of having offended.
+
+"Can't sit down now, mum, without it 'urtin'," added Uncle,
+interpreting Miss Brent's steady gaze as betokening interest.
+
+"Oh, Goddy!  I've been trying to fight my way across to you for hours."
+The pretty brunette to whom Elton had bowed joined the group.  "I've
+been giving you the glad eye all the afternoon and you merely bow.
+Well, Uncle, how's the wound?"
+
+Miss Brent gasped.  She was unaware that Uncle's wound was the standing
+joke among all Lady Meyfield's guests.
+
+"Oh!  I'm gettin' on, thank you," said Uncle cheerfully.  "Mustn't
+complain."
+
+"Isn't he a darling?"  The girl addressed herself to Miss Brent, who
+merely stared.
+
+"Do you refer to Uncle or to me?" enquired Elton.
+
+"Why both, of course; but--" she paused and, screwing up her piquante
+little face in thought she added, "but I think Uncle's the darlinger
+though, don't you?"
+
+Again she challenged Miss Brent.
+
+"Good job my missis can't 'ear 'er," was Uncle's comment to Elton.
+
+"There, you see!" cried the girl gaily, "Uncle talks about his wife
+when I make love to him, and as for Goddy," she turned and regarded
+Elton with a quizzical expression, "he treats my passion with a look
+that clearly says prunes and prisms."
+
+Miss Brent's head was beginning to whirl.  Somewhere at the back of her
+mind was the unuttered thought, What would Little Milstead think of
+such conversation?  She was brought back to Lady Meyfield's
+drawing-room by hearing the brunette once more addressing her.
+
+"They're the two most interesting men in the room.  I call them the
+Dove and the Serpent.  Uncle has the guilelessness of the dove, whilst
+Godfrey has all the wisdom of the serpent.  The three of us together
+would make a most perfect Garden of Eden.  Wouldn't we, Goddy?"
+
+"You are getting a little confused, Peggy," said Elton.  "This is not a
+fancy dress----"
+
+"Stop him, someone!" cried the brunette, "he's going to say something
+naughty."
+
+Elton smiled, Miss Brent continued to stare, whilst Uncle with a grin
+of admiration cried:
+
+"Lor', don't she run on!"
+
+"Now come along, Uncle!" cried the girl.  "I've found some topping
+chocolates, a new kind.  They're priceless," and she dragged Uncle off
+to the end of the table.
+
+"Who was that?" demanded Miss Brent of Elton, disapproval in her look
+and tone.
+
+"Lady Peggy Bristowe," replied Elton.
+
+Miss Brent was impressed.  The Bristowes traced their ancestry so far
+back as to make William the Norman's satellites look almost upstarts.
+
+"She is a little overpowering at first, isn't she?" remarked Elton,
+smiling in spite of himself at the conflicting emotions depicted upon
+Miss Brent's face; but Lady Peggy gave her no time to reply.  She was
+back again like a shaft of April sunshine.
+
+"Here, open your mouth, Goddy," she cried, "they're delicious."
+
+Elton did as he was bid, and Lady Peggy popped a chocolate in, then
+wiping her finger and thumb daintily upon a ridiculously small piece of
+cambric, she stood in front of Elton awaiting his verdict.
+
+"Like it?" she demanded, her head on one side like a bird, and her
+whole attention concentrated upon Elton.
+
+"Apart from a suggestion of furniture polish," began Elton, "it is----"
+
+"Hun!" cried Lady Peggy as she whisked over to where she had left Uncle.
+
+"Lady Peggy is rather spoiled," said Elton to Miss Brent.  "I fear she
+trades upon having the prettiest ankles in London."
+
+Miss Brent turned upon Elton one glance, then with head in air and lips
+tightly compressed, she stalked away.  Elton watched her in surprise,
+unconscious that his casual reference to the ankles of the daughter of
+a peer had been to Miss Brent the last straw.
+
+"Hate at the prow and virtue at the helm," he murmured as she
+disappeared.
+
+Miss Brent was now convinced beyond all power of argument to the
+contrary that her call had landed her in the very midst of an
+ultra-fast set.  She was unaware that Godfrey Elton was notorious among
+his friends for saying the wrong thing to the right people.
+
+"You never know what Godfrey will say," his Aunt Caroline had remarked
+on one occasion when he had just confided to the vicar that all
+introspective women have thick ankles, "and the dear vicar is so
+sensitive."
+
+It seemed that whenever Elton elected to emerge from the mantle of
+silence with which he habitually clothed himself, it was in the
+presence of either a sensitive vicar or someone who was sensitive
+without being a vicar.
+
+Once when Lady Gilcray had rebuked him for openly admiring Jenny Adam's
+legs, which were displayed each night to an appreciative public at the
+Futility Theatre, Elton had replied, "A woman's legs are to me what
+they are to God," which had silenced her Ladyship, who was not quite
+sure whether it was rank blasphemy or a classical quotation; but she
+never forgave him.
+
+Miss Brent made several efforts to approach Lady Meyfield to have a few
+minutes' talk with her about the subject of her call; but without
+success.  She was always surrounded either by arriving or departing
+guests, and soldiers seemed perpetually hovering about ready to pounce
+upon her at the first opportunity.
+
+At last Miss Brent succeeded in attracting her hostess' attention, and
+before she knew exactly what had happened, Lady Meyfield had shaken
+hands, thanked her for coming, hoped she would come again soon, and
+Miss Brent was walking downstairs her mission unaccomplished.  Her only
+consolation was the knowledge that within the next day or two _The
+Morning Post_ would put matters upon a correct footing.
+
+A mile away Patricia was tapping out upon her typewriter that "pigs are
+the potential saviours of the Empire."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE DEFECTION OF MR. TRIGGS
+
+"Well, me dear, how goes it?"
+
+Patricia looked up from a Blue Book, from which she was laboriously
+extracting statistics.  Mr. Triggs stood before her, florid and happy.
+He was wearing a new black and white check suit, a white waistcoat and
+a red tie, whilst in his hand he carried a white felt top-hat with a
+black band.
+
+"It doesn't go at all well," said Patricia, smiling.
+
+"What's the matter, me dear?" he enquired anxiously.  "You look fagged
+out."
+
+"Oh!  I'm endeavouring to extract information about potatoes from
+stupid Blue Books," said Patricia, leaning back in her chair.  "Why
+can't they let potatoes grow without writing about them?" she asked
+plaintively, screwing up her eyebrows.
+
+"'E ain't much good, is 'e?" enquired Mr. Triggs.
+
+"Who?" asked Patricia in surprise.
+
+"A. B.," said Mr. Triggs, lowering his voice and looking round
+furtively, "Dull, 'e strikes me."
+
+"Well, you see, Mr. Triggs, he's rising, and you can't rise and be
+risen at the same time, can you?"
+
+Mr. Triggs shook his head doubtfully.  "'E'll no more rise than your
+salary, me dear," he said.
+
+"Oh! what a gloomy person you are to-day, Mr. Triggs, and you look like
+a ray of sunshine."
+
+"D'you like it?" enquired Mr. Triggs, smiling happily as he stood back
+that Patricia might obtain a good view of his new clothes.  She now saw
+that over his black boots he wore a pair of immaculate white spats.
+
+"You look just like a duke.  But where are you going, and why all this
+splendour?" asked Patricia.
+
+Mr. Triggs beamed upon her.  "I'm glad you like it, me dear.  I was
+thinking about you when I ordered it."
+
+Patricia looked up and smiled.  There was something to her strangely
+lovable in this old man's simplicity.
+
+"I come to take you to the Zoo," he announced.
+
+"To the Zoo?" cried Patricia in unfeigned surprise.
+
+Mr. Triggs nodded, hugely enjoying the effect of the announcement.
+
+"Now run away and get your hat on."
+
+"But I couldn't possibly go, I've got heaps of things to do," protested
+Patricia.  "Why Mrs. Bonsor would be----"
+
+"Never you mind about 'Ettie; I'll manage 'er.  She'll----"
+
+"I thought I heard your voice, father."
+
+Both Patricia and Mr. Triggs started guiltily; they had not heard Mrs.
+Bonsor enter the room.
+
+"'Ullo, 'Ettie!" said Mr. Triggs, recovering himself.  "I just come to
+take this young lady to the Zoo."
+
+"Do I look as bad as all that?" asked Patricia, conscious that her
+effort was a feeble one.
+
+"Don't you worry about your looks, me dear," said Mr. Triggs, "I'll
+answer for them.  Now go and get your 'at on."
+
+"But I really couldn't, Mr. Triggs," protested Patricia.
+
+"I'm afraid it's impossible for Miss Brent to go to-day, father," said
+Mrs. Bonsor evenly; but flashing a vindictive look at Patricia.
+
+"Why?" enquired Mr. Triggs.
+
+"I happen to know," continued Mrs. Bonsor, "that Arthur is very anxious
+for some work that Miss Brent is doing for him."
+
+"What work?" enquired Mr. Triggs.
+
+"Oh--er--something about----"  Mrs. Bonsor looked appealingly at
+Patricia; but Patricia had no intention of helping her out.
+
+"Well! if you can't remember what it is, it can't matter much, and I've
+set my mind on going to the Zoo this afternoon."
+
+"Very well, father.  If you will wait a few minutes I will go with you
+myself."
+
+"You!" exclaimed Mr. Triggs in consternation.  "You and me at the Zoo!
+Why you said once the smell made you sick."
+
+"Father! how can you suggest such a thing?"
+
+"But you did," persisted Mr. Triggs.
+
+"I once remarked that I found the atmosphere a little trying."
+
+"Won't you come into the morning-room, father, there's something I want
+to speak to you about."
+
+"No, I won't," snapped Mr. Triggs like a spoilt child, "I'm going to
+take Miss Brent to the Zoo."
+
+"But Arthur's work, father----" began Mrs. Bonsor.
+
+"Very well then, 'Ettie," said Mr. Triggs, "you better tell A. B. that
+I'd like to 'ave a little talk with 'im to-morrow afternoon at
+Streatham, at three o'clock sharp.  See?  Don't forget!"
+
+Mr. Triggs was angry, and Mrs. Bonsor realised that she had gone too
+far.  Turning to Patricia she said:
+
+"Do you think it would matter if you put off what you are doing until
+to-morrow, Miss Brent?" she enquired.
+
+"I think I ought to do it now, Mrs. Bonsor," replied Patricia demurely,
+determined to land Mrs. Bonsor more deeply into the mire if possible.
+
+"Well, if you'll run away and get your hat on, I will explain to Mr.
+Bonsor when he comes in."
+
+Patricia looked up, Mrs. Bonsor smiled at her, a frosty movement of her
+lips, from which her eyes seemed to dissociate themselves.
+
+During Patricia's absence Mr. Triggs made it abundantly clear to his
+daughter that he was displeased with her.
+
+"Look 'ere, 'Ettie, if I 'ear any more of this nonsense," he said,
+"I'll take on Miss Brent as my own secretary, then I can take her to
+the Zoo every afternoon if I want to."
+
+A look of fear came into Mrs. Bonsor's eyes.  One of the terrors of her
+life was that some designing woman would get hold of her father and
+marry him.  It did not require a very great effort of the imagination
+to foresee that the next step would be the cutting off of the allowance
+Mr. Triggs made his daughter.  Suppose Patricia were to marry her
+father?  What a scandal and what a humiliation to be the stepdaughter
+of her husband's ex-secretary.  Mrs. Bonsor determined to capitulate.
+
+"I'm very sorry, father; but if you had let us know we could have
+arranged differently.  However, everything is all right now."
+
+"No, it isn't," said Mr. Triggs peevishly.  "You've tried to spoil my
+afternoon.  Fancy you a-coming to the Zoo with me.  You with your 'igh
+and mighty ways.  The truth is you're ashamed of your old father,
+although you ain't ashamed of 'is money."
+
+It was with a feeling of gratitude that Mrs. Bonsor heard Patricia
+enter the room.
+
+"I'm ready, Mr. Triggs," she announced, smiling.
+
+Mr. Triggs followed her out of the room without a word.
+
+"You'll explain to Mr. Bonsor that I've been kidnapped, will you not?"
+said Patricia to Mrs. Bonsor, rather from the feeling that something
+should be said than from any particular desire that Mr. Bonsor should
+be placated.
+
+"Certainly, Miss Brent," replied Mrs. Bonsor, with another unconvincing
+smile.  "I hope you'll have a pleasant afternoon."
+
+"Tried to spoil my afternoon, she did," mumbled Mr. Triggs in the tone
+of a child who has discovered that a playmate has endeavoured to rob
+him of his marbles.
+
+Patricia laughed and, slipping her hand through his arm, said:
+
+"Now, you mustn't be cross, or else you'll spoil my afternoon, and
+we're going to have such a jolly time together."
+
+Instantly the shadow fell from Mr. Triggs's face and he turned upon
+Patricia and beamed, pressing her hand against his side.  Then with
+another sudden change he said, "'Ettie annoys me when she's like that;
+but I've given 'er something to think about," he added, pleased at the
+recollection of his parting shot.
+
+Patricia smiled at him, she never made any endeavour to probe into the
+domestic difficulties of the Triggs-Bonsor menage.
+
+"Do you know what I told 'er?" enquired Mr. Triggs.
+
+Patricia shook her head.
+
+"I said that if she wasn't careful I'd engage you as my own secretary.
+That made 'er sit up."  He chuckled at the thought of his master-stroke.
+
+"But you've got nothing for me to secretary, Mr. Triggs," said
+Patricia, not quite understanding where the joke came.
+
+"Ah!  'Ettie understands.  'Ettie knows that every man that ain't
+married marries 'is secretary, and she's dead afraid of me marrying."
+
+"Am I to take that as a proposal, Mr. Triggs?" asked Patricia demurely.
+
+Mr. Triggs chuckled.
+
+"Now we'll forget about everything except that we are truants," cried
+Patricia.  "I've earned a holiday, I think.  On Sunday and Monday there
+was Aunt Adelaide, yesterday it was national importance of pigs and----"
+
+"Hi!  Hi!  Taxi!  Taxi!" Mr. Triggs yelled, dashing forward and
+dragging Patricia after him.  A taxi was crossing a street about twenty
+yards distance.  Mr. Triggs was impulsive in all things.
+
+Having secured the taxi and handed Patricia in, he told the man to
+drive to the Zoo, and sank back with a sigh of pleasure.
+
+"Now we're going to 'ave a very 'appy afternoon, me dear," he said.
+"Don't you worry about pigs."
+
+Arrived at the Zoo, Mr. Triggs made direct for the monkey-house.
+Patricia, a little puzzled at his choice, followed obediently.  Arrived
+there he walked round the cages, looking keenly at the animals.
+Finally selecting a little monkey with a blue face, he pointed it out
+to Patricia.
+
+"They was just like that little chap," he said eagerly.  "That one over
+there, see 'im eating a nut?"
+
+"Yes, I see him," said Patricia; "but who was just like him?"
+
+"I'll tell you when we get outside.  Now come along."
+
+Patricia followed Mr. Triggs, puzzled to account for his strange manner
+and sudden lack of interest in the monkey-house.  They walked along for
+some minutes in silence, then, when they came to a quiet spot, Mr.
+Triggs turned to Patricia.
+
+"You see, me dear," he said, "it was there that I asked her."
+
+"That you asked who what?" enquired Patricia, utterly at a loss.
+
+"You see we'd been walking out for nearly a year; I was a foreman then.
+I 'ad tickets given me for the Zoo one Sunday, so I took 'er.  When we
+was in the monkey-house there was a couple of little chaps just like
+that blue-faced little beggar we saw just now."  There was a note of
+affection in Mr. Triggs's voice as he spoke of the little blue-faced
+monkey.  "And one of 'em 'ad 'is arm round the other and was a-making
+love to 'er as 'ard as ever 'e could go," continued Mr. Triggs.  "And I
+says to Emily, just to see 'ow she'd take it, 'That might be you an'
+me, Emily,' and she blushed and looked down, and then of course I knew,
+and I asked 'er to marry me.  I don't think either of us 'ad cause to
+regret it," added the old man huskily.  "God knows I 'adn't."
+
+Patricia felt that she wanted both to laugh and to cry.  She could say
+nothing, words seemed so hopelessly inadequate.
+
+"You see this is our wedding-day, that's why I wanted to come,"
+continued Mr. Triggs, blinking his eyes, in which there was a
+suspicious moisture.
+
+"Oh! thank you so much for bringing me," said Patricia, and she knew as
+she saw the bright smile with which Mr. Triggs looked at her that she
+had said the right thing.
+
+"Thirty years and never a cross word," he murmured.  "She'd 'ave liked
+you, me dear," he added; "she 'ad wonderful instinct, and everybody
+loved her.  'Ere, but look at me," he suddenly broke off, "spoilin'
+your afternoon, and you lookin' so tired.  Come along," and Mr. Triggs
+trotted off in the direction of the seals, who were intimating clearly
+that they thought that something must be wrong with the official clock.
+They were quite ready for their meal.
+
+For two hours Patricia and Mr. Triggs wandered about the Zoo, roving
+from one group of animals to another, behaving rather like two children
+who had at last escaped from the bondage of the school-room.
+
+After tea they strolled through Regent's Park, watching the squirrels
+and talking about the thousand and one things that good comrades have
+to talk about.  Mr. Triggs told something of his early struggles, how
+his wife had always believed in him and been his helpmate and loyal
+comrade, how he missed her, and how, when she had died, she had urged
+him to marry again.
+
+"Sam," she had said, "you want a woman to look after you; you're
+nothing but a great, big baby."
+
+"And she was right, me dear," said Mr. Triggs huskily, "she was right
+as she always was, only she didn't know that there couldn't ever be
+anyone after 'er."
+
+Slowly and tactfully Patricia guided the old man's thoughts away from
+the sad subject of his wife's death, and soon had him laughing gaily at
+some stories she had heard the night previously from the Bowens.  Mr.
+Triggs was as easily diverted from sadness to laughter as a child.
+
+It was half-past seven when they left the Park gates, and Patricia,
+looking suddenly at her wristlet watch, cried out, "Oh!  I shall be
+late for dinner, I must fly!"
+
+"You're going to dine with me, me dear," announced Mr. Triggs.
+
+"Oh, but I can't," said Patricia; "I--I----"
+
+"Why can't you?"
+
+"Well, I haven't told Mrs. Craske-Morton."
+
+"Who's she?" enquired Mr. Triggs.
+
+"Of course it doesn't matter, how stupid of me," said Patricia; "I
+should love to dine with you, Mr. Triggs, if you will let me."
+
+"That's all right," said Mr. Triggs, heaving a sigh of relief.
+
+They walked down Portland Place and Regent Street until they reached
+the Quadrant.
+
+"We'll 'ave dinner in the Grill-room at the Quadrant," announced Mr.
+Triggs, with the air of a man who knows his way about town.
+
+"Oh, no, not there, please!" cried Patricia, in a panic.
+
+"Not there!" Mr. Triggs looked at her, surprise and disappointment in
+his voice.  "Why not?"
+
+"Oh!  I'd sooner not go there if you don't mind.  Couldn't we go
+somewhere else?"
+
+For a moment Mr. Triggs did not reply.
+
+"There's someone there I don't want to meet," said Patricia, then a
+moment afterwards she realised her mistake.  Mr. Triggs looked down at
+his clothes.
+
+"I suppose they are a bit out of it for the evening," he remarked in a
+hurt voice.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Triggs, how could you?" said Patricia.  "Now I shall insist on
+dining in the Quadrant Grill-room.  If you won't come with me I'll go
+alone."
+
+"Not if you don't want to go, me dear, it doesn't matter.  Though I do
+like to 'ear the band.  We can go anywhere."
+
+"No, Quadrant or nothing," said Patricia, hoping that Bowen would be
+dining out.
+
+"Are you sure, me dear?" said Mr. Triggs, hesitating on the threshold.
+
+"Nothing will change me," announced Patricia, with decision.  "Now you
+can see about getting a table while I go and powder my nose."
+
+When Patricia rejoined Mr. Triggs in the vestibule of the Grill-room he
+was looking very unhappy and downcast.
+
+"There ain't a table nowhere," he said.
+
+"Oh, what a shame!" cried Patricia.  "Whatever shall we do?"
+
+"I don't know," said Mr. Triggs helplessly.
+
+"Are you sure?" persisted Patricia.
+
+"That red-'eaded fellow over there said there wasn't nothing to be 'ad."
+
+"I am sorry," said Patricia, seeing Triggs's disappointment.  "I
+suppose we shall have to go somewhere else after all."
+
+"Won't you and your friend share my table, Patricia?"
+
+Patricia turned round as if someone had hit her, her face flaming.
+"Oh!" she cried.  "You?"
+
+"I have a table booked, and if you will dine with me you will be
+conferring a real favour upon a lonely fellow-creature."
+
+Bowen smiled from Patricia to Mr. Triggs, who was looking at him in
+surprise.
+
+"Oh! where are my manners?" cried Patricia as she introduced the two
+men.
+
+Mr. Triggs's eyes bulged at the mention of Bowen's title.
+
+"Now, Mr. Triggs," said Bowen, "won't you add the weight of your
+persuasion to mine, and persuade Miss Brent that the only thing to do
+is for you both to dine with me and save me from boredom?"
+
+"Well, it was to 'ave been my treat," said Mr. Triggs, not quite sure
+of his ground.
+
+"But you can afford to be generous.  Can't you share her with me, just
+for this evening?"
+
+Mr. Triggs beamed and turned questioningly to Patricia, who, seeing
+that if she declined it would be a real disappointment to him, said:
+
+"Well, I suppose we must under the circumstances."
+
+"You're not very gracious, Patricia, are you?" said Bowen comically.
+
+Patricia laughed.  "Well, come along, I'm starving," she said.
+
+Many heads were turned to look at the curious trio, headed by the
+obsequious maître d'hôtel, as they made their way towards Bowen's table.
+
+"I wonder what 'Ettie would say," whispered Mr. Triggs to Patricia, "me
+dining with a lord, and 'im being a pal of yours, too."
+
+Patricia smiled.  She was wondering what trick Fate would play her next.
+
+The meal was a gay one.  Bowen and Mr. Triggs immediately became
+friends and pledged each other in champagne.
+
+Mr. Triggs told of their visit to the Zoo and of the anniversary it
+celebrated.
+
+"Then you are a believer in marriage, Mr. Triggs," said Bowen.
+
+"A believer in it!  I should just think I am," said Mr. Triggs.  "I
+wish she'd get married," he added, nodding his head in the direction of
+Patricia.
+
+"She's going to," said Bowen quietly.
+
+Mr. Triggs sat up as if someone had hit him in the small of the back.
+
+"Going to," he cried.  "Who's the man?"
+
+"You have just pledged him in Moet and Chandon," replied Bowen quietly.
+
+"You going to marry 'er?"  Unconsciously Mr. Triggs raised his voice in
+his surprise, and several people at adjacent tables turned and looked
+at the trio.
+
+"Hush!  Mr. Triggs," said Patricia, feeling her cheeks burn.  Bowen
+merely smiled.
+
+"Well I _am_ glad," said Mr. Triggs heartily, and seizing Bowen's hand
+he shook it cordially.  "God bless my soul!" he added, "and you never
+told me."  He turned reproachful eyes upon Patricia.
+
+"It--it----" she began.
+
+"You see, it's only just been arranged," said Bowen.
+
+Patricia flashed him a grateful look, he seemed always to be coming to
+her rescue.
+
+"God bless my soul!" repeated Mr. Triggs.  "But you'll be 'appy, both
+of you, I'll answer for that."
+
+"Then I may take it that you're on my side, Mr. Triggs," said Bowen.
+
+"On your side?" queried Mr. Triggs, not understanding.
+
+"Yes," said Bowen, "you see Patricia believes in long engagements,
+whereas I believe in short ones.  I want her to marry me at once; but
+she will not.  She wants to wait until we are both too old to enjoy
+each other's society, and she is too deaf to hear me say how charming
+she is."
+
+"If you love each other you'll never be too old to enjoy each other's
+company," said Mr. Triggs seriously.  "Still, I'm with you," he added,
+"and I'll do all I can to persuade 'er to hurry on the day."
+
+"Oh, Mr. Triggs!" cried Patricia reproachfully, "you have gone over to
+the enemy."
+
+"I think he has merely placed himself on the side of the angels," said
+Bowen.
+
+"And now," said Mr. Triggs, "you must both of you dine with me one
+night to celebrate the event.  Oh Lor'!" he exclaimed.  "What will
+'Ettie say?"  Then turning to Bowen he added oy way of explanation,
+"'Ettie's my daughter, rather stiff, she is.  She looks down on Miss
+Brent because she's only A. B.'s secretary.  'Ettie's got to learn a
+lot about the world," he added oracularly.  "My, this'll be a shock to
+'er."
+
+"I'm afraid I can't----" began Patricia.
+
+"You're not going to say you can't both dine with me?" said Mr. Triggs,
+blankly disappointed.
+
+"I think Patricia will reconsider her decision," said Bowen quietly.
+"She wouldn't be so selfish as to deny two men an evening's happiness."
+
+"She's one of the best," said Mr. Triggs, with decision.
+
+"Mr. Triggs, I think you and I have at least one thing in common," said
+Bowen.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+A BOMBSHELL
+
+"Good morning, Miss Brent."
+
+Patricia was surprised at the graciousness of Mrs. Bonsor's salutation,
+particularly after the episode of the Zoo on the previous afternoon.
+
+"Good morning," she responded, and made to go upstairs to take off her
+hat and coat.
+
+"I congratulate you," proceeded Mrs. Bonsor in honeyed tones; "but I'm
+just a little hurt that you did not confide in me."  Mrs. Bonsor's tone
+was that of a trusted friend of many years' standing.
+
+"Confide!" repeated Patricia in a matter-of-fact tone.  "Confide what,
+Mrs. Bonsor?"
+
+"Your engagement to Lord Peter Bowen.  Such a surprise.  You're a very
+lucky girl.  I hope you'll bring Lord Peter to call."
+
+Patricia listened mechanically to Mrs. Bonsor's inanities.  Suddenly
+she realised their import.  What had happened?  How did she know?  Had
+Mr. Triggs told her?
+
+"How did you know?" Patricia enquired.
+
+"Haven't you seen _The Morning Post_?" enquired Mrs. Bonsor.
+
+"_The Morning Post_!" repeated Patricia, in consternation; "but--but I
+don't understand."
+
+"Then isn't it true?" enquired Mrs. Bonsor, scenting a mystery.
+
+"I--I----" began Patricia, then with inspiration added, "I must be
+getting on, I've got a lot to do to make up for yesterday."
+
+"But isn't it true, Miss Brent?" persisted Mrs. Bonsor.
+
+Then from half-way up the stairs Patricia turned and, in a spurt of
+mischief, cried, "If you see it in _The Morning Post_ it is so, Mrs.
+Bonsor."
+
+When Patricia entered the library Mr. Bonsor was fussing about with
+letters and papers, a habit he had when nervous.
+
+"I'm so sorry about yesterday afternoon, Mr. Bonsor," said Patricia;
+"but Mrs. Bonsor seemed to wish me to----"
+
+"Not at all, not at all, Miss Brent," said Mr. Bonsor nervously.
+"I--I----" then he paused.
+
+"I know what you're going to say, Mr. Bonsor, but please don't say it."
+
+Mr. Bonsor looked at her in surprise.  "Not say it?" he said.
+
+"Oh! everybody's congratulating me, and I'm tired.  Shall we get on
+with the letters?"
+
+Mr. Bonsor was disappointed.  He had prepared a dainty little speech of
+congratulation, which he had intended to deliver as Patricia entered
+the room.  Mr. Bonsor was always preparing speeches which he never
+delivered.  There was not an important matter that had been before the
+House since he had represented Little Dollington upon which he had not
+prepared a speech.  He had criticised every member of the Government
+and Opposition.  He had prepared party speeches and anti-party
+speeches, patriotic speeches and speeches of protest.  He had called
+upon the House of Commons to save the country, and upon the country to
+save the House of Commons.  He had woven speeches of splendid optimism
+and speeches of gloomy foreboding.  He had attacked ministers and
+defended ministers, seen himself attacked and had routed his enemies.
+He had prepared speeches to be delivered to his servants for domestic
+misdemeanour, speeches for Mr. Triggs, even for Mrs. Bonsor.
+
+He had conceived speeches on pigs, speeches on potatoes, speeches on
+oil-cake, and speeches on officers' wives; in short, there was nothing
+in the world of his thoughts about which he had not prepared a speech.
+The one thing he did not do was to deliver these speeches.  They were
+wonderful things of his imagination, which seemed to defy
+crystallization into words.  So it was with the speech of
+congratulation that he had prepared for Patricia.
+
+That morning Patricia was distraite.  Her thoughts continued to wander
+to _The Morning Post_ announcement, and she was anxious to get out to
+lunch in order to purchase a copy and see what was actually said.  Then
+her thoughts ran on to who was responsible for such an outrage; for
+Patricia regarded it as an outrage.  It was obviously Bowen who had
+done it in order to make her position still more ridiculous.  It was
+mean, she was not sure that it was not contemptible.
+
+Patricia was in the act of transcribing some particulars about infant
+mortality in England and Wales compared with that of Scotland, when the
+parlourmaid entered with a note.  Mr. Bonsor stretched out his hand for
+it.
+
+"It is for Miss Brent, sir," said the maid.
+
+Patricia looked up in surprise.  It was unusual for her to receive a
+note at the Bonsors'.  She opened the envelope mechanically and read:--
+
+
+"DEAREST,
+
+"I have just seen _The Morning Post_.  It is sweet of you to relent.
+You have made me very happy.  Will you dine with me to-night and when
+may I take you to Grosvenor Square?  My mother will want to see her new
+daughter-in-law.
+
+"I so enjoyed last night.  Surely the gods are on my side.
+
+"PETER."
+
+
+Patricia read and re-read the note.  For a moment she felt ridiculously
+happy, then, with a swift change of mood she saw the humiliation of her
+situation.  Bowen thought it was she who had inserted the notice of the
+engagement.  What must he think of her?  It looked as if she had done
+it to burn his boats behind him.  Then suddenly she seized a pen and
+wrote:--
+
+
+"DEAR LORD PETER,
+
+"I know nothing whatever about the announcement in _The Morning Post_,
+and I only heard of it when I arrived here.  I cannot dine with you
+to-night, and I am very angry and upset that anyone should have had the
+impertinence to interfere in my affairs.  I shall take up the matter
+with _The Morning Post_ people and insist on a contradiction
+immediately.
+
+"Yours sincerely,
+  "PATRICIA BRENT."
+
+
+With quick, decisive movements Patricia folded the note, addressed the
+envelope and handed it to the maid, then she turned to Mr. Bonsor.
+
+"I am sorry to interrupt work, Mr. Bonsor; but that was rather an
+important note that I had to answer."
+
+Mr. Bonsor smiled sympathetically.
+
+At lunch-time Patricia purchased a copy of _The Morning Post_, and
+there saw in all its unblushing mendacity the announcement.
+
+
+"A marriage has been arranged and will shortly take place between Lord
+Peter Bowen, D.S.O., M.C., attached to the General Staff, son of the
+7th Marquess of Meyfield, and Patricia Brent, daughter of the late John
+Brent, of Little Milstead."
+
+
+"Why on earth must the ridiculous people put it at the top of the
+column?" she muttered aloud.  A man occupying an adjoining table at the
+place where she was lunching turned and looked at her.
+
+"And now I must go back to potatoes, pigs, and babies," said Patricia
+to herself as she paid her bill and rose.  "Ugh!"
+
+She had scarcely settled down to her afternoon's work when the maid
+entered and announced, "Lord Peter Bowen to see you, miss."
+
+"Oh bother!" exclaimed Patricia.  "Tell him I'm busy, will you please?"
+
+The maid's jaw dropped; she was excellently trained, but no
+maid-servant could be expected to rise superior to such an
+extraordinary attitude on the part of a newly-engaged girl.  Nothing
+short of a butler who had lived in the best families could have risen
+to such an occasion.
+
+"But, Miss Brent----" began Mr. Bonsor.
+
+Patricia turned and froze him with a look.
+
+"Will you give him my message, please, Fellers?" she said, and Fellers
+walked out a disillusioned young woman.
+
+Two minutes later Mrs. Bonsor entered the room, flushed and excited.
+
+"Oh, Miss Brent, that silly girl has muddled up things somehow!  Lord
+Peter Bowen is waiting for you in the morning-room.  I have just been
+talking to him and saying that I hope you will both dine with us one
+day next week."
+
+"The message was quite correct, Mrs. Bonsor.  I am very busy with pigs,
+and babies, and potatoes.  I really cannot add Lord Peter to my
+responsibilities at the moment."
+
+Mrs. Bonsor looked at Patricia as if she had suddenly gone mad.
+
+"But Miss Brent-----" began Mrs. Bonsor, scandalised.
+
+"I suppose I shall have to see him," said Patricia, rising with the air
+of one who has to perform an unpleasant task.  "I wish he'd stay at the
+War Office and leave me to do my work.  I suppose I shall have to write
+to Lord Derby about it."
+
+Mrs. Bonsor glanced at Mr. Bonsor, who, however, was busily engaged in
+preparing an appropriate speech upon War Office methods, suggested by
+Patricia's remark about Lord Derby.
+
+As Patricia entered the morning-room, Bowen came forward.
+
+"Oh, Patricia! why will you persist in being a cold douche?  Why this
+morning I absolutely scandalised Peel by singing at the top of my voice
+whilst in my bath, and now.  Look at me now!"
+
+Patricia looked at him, then she was forced to laugh.  He presented
+such a woebegone appearance.
+
+"But what on earth have I to do with your singing in your bath?" she
+enquired.
+
+"It was _The Morning Post_ paragraph.  I thought everything was going
+to be all right after last night, and now I'm a door-mat again."
+
+"Who inserted that paragraph?" enquired Patricia.
+
+"I rang up _The Morning Post_ office and they told me that it was
+handed in by Miss Brent, who is staying at the Mayfair Hotel."
+
+"Aunt Adelaide!"  There was a depth of meaning in Patricia's tone as
+she uttered the two words, then turning to Bowen she enquired, "Did you
+tell them to contradict it?"
+
+"They asked me whether it were correct," he said, refusing to meet
+Patricia's eyes.
+
+"What did you say?"
+
+"I said it was."  He looked at her quizzically, like a boy who is
+expecting a severe scolding.  Patricia had to bite her lips to prevent
+herself from laughing.
+
+"You told _The Morning Post_ people that it was correct when you knew
+that it was wrong?"
+
+Bowen hung his head.  "But it isn't wrong," he muttered.
+
+"You know very well that it is wrong and that I am not engaged to you,
+and that no marriage has been arranged or ever will be arranged.  Now I
+shall have to write to the editor and insist upon the statement being
+contradicted."
+
+"Good Lord!  Don't do that, Patricia," broke in Bowen.  "They'll think
+we've all gone mad."
+
+"And for once a newspaper editor will be right," was Patricia's comment.
+
+"And will you dine to-night, Pat?"
+
+Patricia looked up.  This was the first time Bowen had used the
+diminutive of her name.  Somehow it sounded very intimate.
+
+"I am afraid I have an--an----"
+
+The hesitation was her undoing.
+
+"No; don't tell me fibs, please.  You will dine with me and then,
+afterwards, we will go on and see the mater.  She is dying to know you."
+
+How boyish and lover-like Bowen was in spite of his twenty-eight years,
+and--and--how different everything might have been if----  Patricia was
+awakened from her thoughts by hearing Bowen say:
+
+"Shall I pick you up here in the car?"
+
+"No, I--I've just told you I am engaged," she said.
+
+"And I've just told you that I won't allow you to be engaged to anyone
+but me," was Bowen's answer.  "If you won't come and dine with me I'll
+come and play my hooter outside Galvin House until they send you out to
+get rid of me.  You know, Patricia, I'm an awful fellow when I've set
+my mind on anything, and I'm simply determined to marry you whether you
+like it or not."
+
+"Very well, I will dine with you to-night at half-past seven."
+
+"I'll pick you up at Galvin House at a quarter-past seven with the car."
+
+"Very well," said Patricia wearily.  It seemed ridiculous to try and
+fight against her fate, and at the back of her mind she had a plan of
+action, which she meant to put into operation.
+
+"Now I must get back to my work.  Good-bye."
+
+Bowen opened the door of the morning-room.  Mrs. Bonsor was in the
+hall.  Patricia walked over to the library, leaving Bowen in Mrs.
+Bonsor's clutches.
+
+"Oh, Lord Peter!" Mrs. Bonsor gushed.  "I hope you and Miss Brent will
+dine with us----"
+
+Patricia shut the library door without waiting to hear Bowen's reply.
+
+At five o'clock she gave up the unequal struggle with infant mortality
+statistics and walked listlessly across the Park to Galvin House.  She
+was tired and dispirited.  It was the weather, she told herself, London
+in June could be very trying, then there had been all that fuss over
+_The Morning Post_ announcement.  At Galvin House she knew the same
+ordeal was awaiting her that she had passed through at Eaton Square.
+Mrs. Craske-Morton would be effusive, Miss Wangle would unbend, Miss
+Sikkum would simper, Mr. Bolton would be facetious, and all the others
+would be exactly what they had been all their lives, only a little more
+so as a result of _The Morning Post_ paragraph.
+
+Only the fact of Miss Wangle taking breakfast in bed had saved Patricia
+from the ordeal at breakfast.  Miss Wangle was the only resident at
+Galvin House who regularly took _The Morning Post_, it being "the dear
+bishop's favourite paper."
+
+Arrived at Galvin House Patricia went straight to her room.  Dashing
+past Gustave, who greeted her with "Oh, mees!" struggling at the same
+time to extract from his pocket a newspaper.  Patricia felt that she
+should scream.  Had everyone in Galvin House bought a copy of that
+day's _Morning Post_, and would they all bring it out of their pockets
+and point out the passage to her?  She sighed wearily.
+
+Suddenly she jumped up from the bed where she had thrown herself,
+seized her writing-case and proceeded to write feverishly.  At the end
+of half an hour she read and addressed three letters, stamping two of
+them.  The first was to the editor of _The Morning Post_, and ran:--
+
+
+"DEAR SIR,
+
+"In your issue of to-day's date you make an announcement regarding a
+marriage having been arranged between Lord Peter Bowen and myself,
+which is entirely inaccurate.
+
+"I am given to understand that this announcement was inserted on the
+authority of my aunt, Miss Adelaide Brent, and I must leave you to take
+what action you choose in relation to her.  As for myself, I will ask
+you to be so kind as to insert a contradiction of the statement in your
+next issue.
+
+"I am,
+  "Yours faithfully,
+    "PATRICIA BRENT."
+
+
+Patricia always prided herself on the business-like quality of her
+letters.
+
+The second letter was to Miss Brent.  It ran:--
+
+
+"DEAR AUNT ADELAIDE,
+
+"I have written to the editor of _The Morning Post_ informing him that
+he must take such action as he sees fit against you for inserting your
+unauthorised statement that a marriage has been arranged between Lord
+Peter Bowen and me.  It may interest you to know that the engagement
+has been broken off as a result of your impulsive and ill-advised
+action.  Personally I think you have rather presumed on being my 'sole
+surviving relative.'
+
+"Your affectionate niece,
+  "PATRICIA."
+
+
+The third letter was to Bowen.
+
+
+"DEAR LORD PETER,
+
+"I have written to the editor of _The Morning Post_, asking him to
+contradict the inaccurate statement published in to-day's issue.  I am
+consumed with humiliation that such a thing should have been sent to
+him by a relative of mine, more particularly by a 'sole surviving
+relative.'  My aunt unfortunately epitomises in her personality all the
+least desirable characteristics to be found in relatives.
+
+"I cannot tell you how sorry I am about--oh, everything!  If you really
+want to save me from feeling thoroughly ashamed of myself you will not
+only forget me, but also a certain incident.
+
+"You have done me a great honour, I know, and you will add to it a
+great service if you will do as I ask and forget all about a folly that
+I have had cause bitterly to regret.
+
+"Please forgive me for not dining with you to-night and for breaking my
+word; but I am feeling very unwell and tired and I have gone to bed.
+
+"Yours sincerely,
+  "PATRICIA BRENT."
+
+
+Patricia's plan was to post the letters to Aunt Adelaide and _The
+Morning Post_, and leave the other with Gustave to be given to Bowen
+when he called, she would then shut herself in her room and plead a
+headache as an excuse for not being disturbed.  Thus she would escape
+Miss Wangle and her waves of interrogation.
+
+As Patricia descended the stairs, Gustave was in the act of throwing
+open the door to Lady Tanagra.  It was too late to retreat.
+
+"Ah! there you are," exclaimed Lady Tanagra as she passed the
+respectful Gustave in the hall.
+
+Patricia descended the remaining stairs slowly and with dragging steps.
+Lady Tanagra looked at her sharply.
+
+"Aren't we a nuisance?" cried she.  "There's nothing more persistent in
+nature than a Bowen.  Bruce's spider is quite a parochial affair in
+comparison," and she laughed lightly.
+
+Patricia smiled as she welcomed Lady Tanagra.  For a moment she
+hesitated at the door of the lounge, then with a sudden movement she
+turned towards the stairs.
+
+"Come up to my room," she said, "we can talk there."
+
+There was no cordiality in her voice.  Lady Tanagra noticed that she
+looked worn-out and ill.  Once the bedroom door was closed she turned
+to Patricia.
+
+"My poor Patricia! whatever is the matter?  You look thoroughly done
+up.  Now lie down on the bed like a good girl, and I will assume my
+best bedside manner."
+
+Patricia shook her head wearily, and indicating a chair by the window,
+seated herself upon the bed.
+
+"I'm afraid I am rather tired," she said.  "I was just going to lock
+myself up for the night."
+
+"Now I'm going to cheer you up," cried Lady Tanagra.  "Was there ever a
+more tactless way of beginning, but I've got something to tell you that
+is so exquisitely funny that it would cheer up an oyster, or even a
+radical."
+
+"First," said Patricia, "I think I should like you to read these
+letters."  Slowly and wearily she ripped open the three letters and
+handed them to Lady Tanagra, who read them through slowly and
+deliberately.  This done, she folded each carefully, returned it to its
+envelope and handed them to Patricia.
+
+"Well!" said Patricia.
+
+Lady Tanagra smiled.  Reaching across to the dressing-table she took a
+cigarette from Patricia's box and proceeded to light it.  Patricia
+watched her curiously.
+
+"I think you must have been meant for a man, Tanagra," she said after a
+pause.  "You have the gift of silence, and nothing is more provoking to
+a woman."
+
+"What do you want me to say?" enquired Lady Tanagra.  "I like these
+cigarettes," she added.
+
+"If you are not careful, you'll make me scream in a minute," said
+Patricia, with a smile.  "I showed you those letters and now you don't
+even so much as say 'thank you.'"
+
+"Thank you very much indeed, Patricia," said Lady Tanagra meekly.
+
+"You don't approve of them?"  There was undisguised challenge in
+Patricia's voice.
+
+"I think the one to Miss Brent is admirable, specially if you will add
+a postscript after what I tell you."
+
+"But the other two," persisted Patricia.
+
+"I do not think I am qualified to express an opinion, am I?" said Lady
+Tanagra calmly.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Well, you see, I am an interested party."
+
+"You!" cried Patricia, then with a sudden change, "Oh, if you are not
+careful I shall come over and shake you!"
+
+"I think that would be very good for both of us," was Lady Tanagra's
+reply.
+
+"Tell me what you mean," persisted Patricia.
+
+"Well, in the first place, the one to the editor of _The Morning Post_
+will make poor Peter ridiculous, and the other will hurt his feelings,
+and as I am very fond of Peter you cannot expect me to be enthusiastic
+with either of them, can you?"
+
+Lady Tanagra rose and going over to Patricia put her arm round her and
+kissed her on the cheek, then Patricia did a very foolish thing.
+Without a word of warning she threw her arms around Lady Tanagra's neck
+and burst into tears.
+
+"Oh, I'm so wretched, Tanagra!  I know I'm a beast and I want to hurt
+everybody and every thing.  I think I should like to hurt you even,"
+she cried, her mood of crying passing as quickly as it had come.
+
+"Don't you think we had better just talk the thing out?  Now since you
+have asked my view," continued Lady Tanagra, "I will give it.  Your
+letter to _The Morning Post_ people will make poor Peter the
+laughing-stock of London.  He has many enemies among ambitious mamas.
+Never have I known him to be attracted towards a girl until you came
+along.  He's really paying you a very great compliment."
+
+Patricia sniffed ominously.
+
+"Then the letter to Peter would hurt him because--you must forgive
+me--it is rather brutal, isn't it?"
+
+Patricia nodded her head vigorously.
+
+"Well," continued Lady Tanagra, "what do you say if we destroy them
+both?"
+
+"But--but--that would leave _The Morning Post_ announcement and
+P-Peter----"
+
+"Don't you think they might both be left, just for the moment?  Later
+you can wipe the floor with them."
+
+"But--but--you don't understand, Tanagra," began Patricia.
+
+"Don't you think that half the troubles of the world are due to people
+wanting to understand?" said Lady Tanagra calmly.  "I never want to
+understand.  There are certain things I know and these are sufficient
+for me.  In this case I know that I have a very good brother and he
+wants to marry a very good girl; but for some reason she won't have
+anything to do either with him or with me."  She looked up into
+Patricia's face with a smile so wholly disarming that Patricia was
+forced to laugh.
+
+"If you knew Patricia's opinion of herself," she said to Lady Tanagra,
+"you would be almost shocked."
+
+"Well, now, will you do something just to please me?" insinuated Lady
+Tanagra.  "You see this big brother of mine has always been more or
+less my adopted child, and you have it in your power to hurt him more
+than I want to see him hurt."  There was an unusually serious note in
+Lady Tanagra's voice.  "Why not let things go on as they are for the
+present, then later the engagement can be broken off if you wish it.
+I'll speak to Peter and see that he is not tiresome."
+
+"Oh, but he's never been that!" protested Patricia, then she stopped
+suddenly in confusion.
+
+Lady Tanagra smiled to herself.
+
+"Well, if he's never been tiresome I'm sure you wouldn't like to hurt
+him, would you?"  She was speaking as if to a child.
+
+"The only person I want to hurt is Aunt Adelaide," said Patricia with a
+laugh.
+
+Lady Tanagra noticed with pleasure that the mood seemed to be dropping
+from her.
+
+"Well, may I be the physician for to-day?" continued Lady Tanagra.
+
+Patricia nodded her head.
+
+"Very well, then, I prescribe a dinner this evening with one Tanagra
+Bowen, Peter Bowen and Godfrey Elton, on the principle of 'Eat thou and
+drink, to-morrow thou shalt die.'"
+
+"Who is Godfrey Elton?" asked Patricia with interest.
+
+"My dear Patricia, if I were to start endeavouring to describe Godfrey
+we should be at it for hours.  You can't describe Godfrey, you can only
+absorb him.  He is a sort of wise youth rapidly approaching childhood."
+
+"What on earth do you mean?" cried Patricia, laughing.
+
+"You will discover for yourself later.  We are all dining at the
+Quadrant to-night at eight."
+
+"Dining at the Quadrant?" repeated Patricia in amazement.
+
+"Yes, and I have to get home to dress and you have to dress and I will
+pick you up in a taxi at a quarter to eight."
+
+"But--but--Peter--your brother said that he was coming----"
+
+"Peter has greater faith in his sister than in himself, he therefore
+took me into his confidence and I am his emissary."
+
+"Oh, you Bowens, you Bowens!" moaned Patricia in mock despair.
+
+"There is no avoiding us, I confess," said Lady Tanagra gaily.  "Now I
+must tell you about your charming aunt.  She called upon mother
+yesterday."
+
+"What!" gasped Patricia.
+
+"She called at Grosvenor Square and announced to poor, un-understanding
+mother that she thought the families ought to know one another.  But
+she got rather badly shocked by Godfrey and one of the soldier boys,
+whom we call 'Uncle,' and left with the firm conviction that our circle
+is a pernicious one."
+
+"It's--it's--perfectly scandalous!" cried Patricia.
+
+"No, it's not as bad as that," said Lady Tanagra calmly.
+
+"What?" began Patricia.  "Oh!  I mean Aunt Adelaide's conduct, it's
+humiliating, it's----"
+
+"Wait until you hear," said Lady Tanagra with a smile.  "When Peter ran
+in to see mother, she said that she had had a call from a Miss Brent
+and could he place her.  So poor old Peter blurts out that he's going
+to marry Miss Brent.  Poor mother nearly had a fit on the spot.  She
+was too tactful to express her disapproval; but she showed it in her
+amazement.  The result was that Peter was deeply hurt and left the room
+and the house.  I am the only one who saw the exquisite humour of the
+joke.  My poor darling mother had the impression that Peter has gone
+clean off his head and wanted to marry your most excellent Aunt
+Adelaide," and Lady Tanagra laughed gaily.
+
+For a moment Patricia gazed at her blankly, then as she visualised Aunt
+Adelaide and Bowen side by side at the altar she laughed hysterically.
+
+"I kept mother in suspense for quite a long time.  Then I told her, and
+I also rang up Peter and told him.  And now I must fly," cried Lady
+Tanagra.  "I will be here at a quarter to eight, and if you are not
+ready I shall be angry; but if you have locked yourself in your room I
+shall batter down the door.  We are going to have a very happy evening
+and you will enjoy yourself immensely.  I think it quite likely that
+Godfrey will fall in love with you as well as Peter, which will still
+further increase your embarrassments." Then with a sudden change of
+mood she said, "Please cheer up, Patricia, happiness is not a thing to
+be taken lightly.  You have been a little overwrought of late, and now,
+good-bye."
+
+"One moment, please," said Patricia.  "Don't you understand that
+nothing can possibly be built up on such a foundation as--as----?"
+
+"Your picking up Peter in the Grill-room of the Quadrant," said Lady
+Tanagra calmly.
+
+Patricia gasped.  "Oh!" she cried.
+
+"Let's call things by their right names," said Lady Tanagra.  "At the
+present moment you're putting up rather a big fight against your own
+inclination, and you are causing yourself a lot of unnecessary
+unhappiness.  Is it worth it?" she asked.
+
+"One's self-respect is always worth any sacrifice," said Patricia.
+
+"Except when you are in love, and then you take pride in trampling it
+under foot."
+
+With this oracular utterance Lady Tanagra departed with a bright nod, a
+smile and an insistence that Patricia should not come downstairs.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+A TACTICAL BLUNDER
+
+"I often think," remarked Lady Tanagra as she helped herself a second
+time to hors d'oeuvres, "that if Godfrey could only be condensed or
+desiccated he would save the world from ennui."
+
+Elton looked up from a sardine he was filleting with great interest and
+care; concentration was the foundation of Godfrey Elton's character.
+
+"Does that mean that he is a food or a stimulant?" enquired Patricia,
+Elton having returned to his sardine.
+
+Lady Tanagra regarded Elton with thoughtful brow.
+
+"I think," she said deliberately, "I should call him a habit."
+
+"Does that imply that he is a drug upon the market?" retorted Patricia.
+
+Bowen laughed.  Elton continued to fillet his sardine.
+
+"You see," continued Lady Tanagra, "Godfrey has two qualities that to a
+woman are maddening.  The first is the gift of silence, and the second
+is a perfect genius for making everyone else feel that they are in the
+wrong.  Some day he'll fall in love, and then something will snap
+and--well, he will give up dissecting sardines as if they were the one
+thing in life worthy of a man's attention."
+
+Elton looked up again straight into Lady Tanagra's eyes and smiled.
+
+"Look at him now!" continued Lady Tanagra, "that very smile makes me
+feel like a naughty child."
+
+The four were dining in Bowen's sitting-room at the Quadrant, Lady
+Tanagra having decided that this would be more pleasant than in the
+public dining-room.
+
+"Can you," continued Lady Tanagra, who was in a wilful mood, "can you
+imagine Godfrey in love?  I don't think any man ought to be allowed to
+fall in love until he has undergone an examination as to whether or no
+he can say the right thing the right way.  No, it takes an Irishman to
+make love."
+
+"But an Irishman says what he cannot possibly mean," said Patricia,
+with the air of one of vast experience in such matters.
+
+"And many Englishmen mean what they cannot possibly say," said Elton,
+looking at Lady Tanagra.
+
+"Oh," cried Lady Tanagra, clapping her hands.  "You have drawn him,
+Patricia.  Now he will talk to us instead of concentrating himself upon
+his food.  Ah!" she exclaimed suddenly, turning to Elton.  "I promised
+that you should fall in love with Patricia, Godfrey."
+
+"Now that Tanagra has come down to probabilities the atmosphere should
+lighten," Elton remarked.
+
+"Isn't that Godfrey all over?" demanded Lady Tanagra of Bowen.  "He
+will snub one woman and compliment another in a breath.  Patricia," she
+continued, "I warn you against Godfrey.  He is highly dangerous.  He
+should always be preceded by a man with a red flag."
+
+"But why?" asked Bowen.
+
+"Because of his reticence.  A man has no right t to be reticent; it
+piques a woman's curiosity, and with us curiosity is the first step to
+surrender."
+
+"Why hesitate at the first step?" asked Elton.
+
+"Think of it, Patricia," continued Lady Tanagra, ignoring Elton's
+remark.  "Although Godfrey has seen _The Morning Post_ he has not yet
+congratulated Peter."
+
+"I did not know then that I had cause to congratulate him," said Elton
+quietly.
+
+"What mental balance!" cried Lady Tanagra.  "I'm sure he reads the
+deaths immediately after the births, and the divorces just after the
+marriages so as to preserve his sense of proportion."
+
+Elton looked first at Lady Tanagra and then on to Patricia, and smiled.
+
+"Can you not see Godfrey choosing a wife?" demanded Lady Tanagra,
+laughing.  "Weighing the shape of her head with the size of her ankles,
+he's very fussy about ankles.  He would dissect her as he would a
+sardine, demanding perfection, mental, moral, and physical, and in
+return he could give _himself_."  Lady Tanagra emphasized the last word.
+
+"Most men take less time to choose a wife than they would a
+trousering," said Elton quietly.
+
+"I think Mr. Elton is right," said Patricia.
+
+"Then you don't believe in love at first sight," said Bowen to Patricia.
+
+"Miss Brent did not say that," interposed Elton.  "She merely implied
+that a man who falls in love at first sight should choose trouserings
+at first sight.  Is that not so?"  He looked across at Patricia.
+
+Patricia nodded.
+
+"An impetuous man will be impetuous in all things," said Bowen.
+
+"He who hesitates may lose a wife," said Lady Tanagra, "and----"
+
+"And by analogy, go without trousers," said Elton quietly.
+
+"That might explain a Greek; but scarcely a Scotsman," said Patricia.
+
+"No one has ever been able to explain a Scotsman," said Elton.  "We
+content ourselves with misunderstanding him."
+
+"We were talking about love," broke in Lady Tanagra, "and I will not
+have the conversation diverted."  Turning to Patricia she demanded,
+"Can you imagine Godfrey in love?"
+
+"I think so," said Patricia quietly, looking across at Elton.
+"Only----"
+
+"Only what?" cried Lady Tanagra with excited interest.  "Oh, please,
+Patricia, explain Godfrey to me!  No one has ever done so."
+
+"Don't you think he is a little like the Scotsman we were talking about
+just now?" said Patricia.  "Difficult to explain; but easy to
+misunderstand."
+
+"Oh, Peter, Peter!" wailed Lady Tanagra, looking across at Bowen.
+"She's caught it."
+
+"Caught what?" asked Bowen in surprise.
+
+"The vagueness of generalities that is Godfrey," replied Lady Tanagra.
+"Now, Patricia, you must explain that 'only' at which you broke off.
+You say you can imagine Godfrey in love, only----"
+
+"I think he would place it on the same plane as honour and
+sportsmanship, probably a little above both."
+
+Elton looked up from the bread he was crumbling, and gave Patricia a
+quick penetrating glance, beneath which her eyes fell.
+
+Lady Tanagra looked at Patricia in surprise, but said nothing.
+
+"Can you imagine Tan in love, Patricia?" enquired Bowen.  "We Bowens
+are notoriously backward in matters of the heart," he added.
+
+"I shall fall in love when the man comes along who--who----"  Lady
+Tanagra paused.
+
+"Will compel you," said Patricia, concluding the sentence.
+
+Again Elton looked quickly across at her.
+
+"What do you mean?" demanded Lady Tanagra.
+
+"I think," said Patricia deliberately, "that you are too primitive to
+fall in love.  You would have to be stormed, carried away by force, and
+wooed afterwards."
+
+"It doesn't sound very respectable, does it?" said Lady Tanagra
+thoughtfully, then turning to Bowen she demanded, "Peter, would you
+allow me to be carried away by force, stormed, and wooed afterwards?"
+
+"I think, Tanagra, you sometimes forget that your atmosphere is too
+exotic for most men," said Elton.
+
+"Godfrey," said Lady Tanagra reproachfully, "I have had quite a lot of
+proposals, and I won't be denied my successes."
+
+"We were talking about love, not offers of marriage," said Elton with a
+smile.
+
+"Cynic," cried Lady Tanagra.  "You imply that the men who have proposed
+to me wanted my money and not myself."
+
+"Suppose, Tanagra, there were a right man," said Patricia, "and he was
+poor and honourable.  What then?"
+
+"I suppose I should have to ask him to marry me," said Lady Tanagra
+dubiously.
+
+"But, Tan, we've just decided," said Bowen, "that you have to be
+carried away by force, and cannot love until force has been applied."
+
+"I think I've had enough of this conversation," said Lady Tanagra.
+"You're trying to prove that I'm either going to lose my reputation, or
+die an old maid, and I'm not so sure that you're wrong, about the old
+maid, I mean," she added.  "I shall depend upon you, Godfrey, then,"
+she said, turning to Elton, "and we will hobble about the Park together
+on Sunday mornings, comparing notes upon rheumatism and gout.  Ugh!"
+She looked deliberately round the table, from one to the other.  "Has
+it ever struck you what we shall look like when we grow very old?" she
+asked.
+
+"No one need ever grow old," said Patricia.
+
+"How can you prevent it?" asked Bowen.
+
+"There is morphia and the fountain of eternal youth," suggested Elton.
+
+"Please don't let's be clever any more," said Lady Tanagra.  "It's
+affecting my brain.  Now we will play bridge for a little while and
+then all go home and get to bed early."
+
+In spite of her protests Bowen insisted on seeing Patricia to Galvin
+House.  For some time they did not speak.  As the taxi turned into
+Oxford Street Bowen broke the silence.
+
+"Patricia, my mother wants to know you," he said simply.
+
+Patricia shivered.  The words came as a shock.  They recalled the
+incident of her meeting with Bowen.  She seemed to see a grey-haired
+lady with Bowen's eyes and quiet manner, too well-bred to show the
+disapproval she felt on hearing the story of her son's first meeting
+with his fiancé.  She shuddered again.
+
+"Are you cold?" Bowen enquired solicitously, leaning forward to close
+the window nearest to him.
+
+"No, I was thinking what Lady Meyfield will think when she hears how
+you made the acquaintance of--of--me," she finished lamely.
+
+"There is no reason why she should know," said Bowen.
+
+"Do you think I would marry----?"  Patricia broke off suddenly in
+confusion.
+
+"But why----?" began Bowen.
+
+"If ever I meet Lady Meyfield I shall tell her exactly how I--I--met
+you," said Patricia with
+ decision.
+
+"Well, tell her then," said Bowen good-humouredly.  "She has a real
+sense of humour."
+
+The moment Bowen had uttered the words he saw his mistake.  Patricia
+drew herself up coldly.
+
+"It was rather funny, wasn't it?" she said evenly; "but mothers do not
+encourage their sons to develop such acquaintances.  Now shall we talk
+about something else?"
+
+"But my mother wants to meet you," protested Bowen.  "She----"
+
+"Tell her the story of our acquaintance," replied Patricia coldly.  "I
+think that will effectually overcome her wish to know me.  Ah! here we
+are," she concluded as the taxi drew up at Galvin House.  With a short
+"good night!" Patricia walked up the steps, leaving Bowen conscious
+that he had once more said the wrong thing.
+
+That night, as Patricia prepared for bed, she mentally contrasted the
+Bowens' social sphere with that of Galvin House and she shuddered for
+the third time that evening.
+
+"Patricia Brent," she apostrophised her reflection in the mirror.
+"You're a fool! and you have not even the saving grace of being an old
+fool.  High Society has turned your giddy young head," and with a laugh
+that sounded hard even to her own ears, she got into bed and switched
+off the light.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+GALVIN HOUSE MEETS A LORD
+
+The effect of _The Morning Post_ announcement upon Galvin House had
+been little short of sensational.  Although all were aware of the
+engagement, to see the announcement in print seemed to arouse them to a
+point of enthusiasm.  Everyone from the servants upwards possessed a
+copy of _The Morning Post_, with the single exception of Mrs. Barnes,
+who had mislaid hers and made everybody's life a misery by insisting on
+examining their copy to make quite sure that they had not taken hers by
+mistake.
+
+Had not Patricia been so preoccupied, she could not have failed to
+notice the atmosphere of suppressed excitement at Galvin House.  Many
+glances were directed at her, glances of superior knowledge, of which
+she was entirely unconscious.  Woman-like she never paused to ask
+herself what she really felt or what she really meant.  Her thoughts
+ran in a circle, coming back inevitably to the maddening question,
+"What does he really think of me?"  Why had Fate been so unkind as to
+undermine a possible friendship with that damning introduction?  After
+all, she would ask herself indifferently, what did it matter?  Bowen
+was nothing to her.  Then back again her thoughts would rush to the
+inevitable question, what did he really think?
+
+Since the night of her adventure, Patricia had formed the habit of
+dressing for dinner.  She made neither excuse nor explanation to
+herself as to why she did so.  Miss Wangle and Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe,
+however, had covertly remarked upon the fact; but Patricia had ignored
+them.  She had reached that state in her psychological development when
+she neither explained nor denied things.
+
+With delicacy and insight Providence has withheld from woman the
+uncomfortable quality of introspection.  Had Patricia subjected her
+actions to the rigid test of reason, she would have found them
+strangely at variance with her determination.  With a perversity
+characteristic of her sex, she forbade Bowen to see her, and then spent
+hours in speculating as to when and how he would disobey her.  A parcel
+in the hall at Galvin House sent the colour flooding to her cheeks,
+whilst Gustave, entering the lounge, bearing his flamboyant
+nickle-plated apology for the conventional silver salver, set her heart
+thumping with expectation.
+
+As the day on which Bowen was to dine at Galvin House drew near, the
+excitement became intense, developing into a panic when the day itself
+dawned.  All were wondering how this or that garment would turn out
+when actually worn, and those who were not in difficulties with their
+clothes were troubled about their manners.  At Galvin House manners
+were things that were worn, like a gardenia or a patent hook-and-eye.
+Patricia had once explained to an uncomprehending Aunt Adelaide that
+Galvin House had more manners than breeding.
+
+On the Friday evening when Patricia returned to Galvin House, Gustave
+was in the hall.
+
+"Oh, mees!" he involuntarily exclaimed.
+
+Patricia waited for more; but after a moment of hesitation, Gustave
+disappeared along the hall as if there were nothing strange in his
+conduct, leaving Patricia staring after him in surprise.
+
+At that moment Mrs. Craske-Morton bustled out of the lounge, full of an
+unwonted importance.
+
+"Oh, Miss Brent!" she exclaimed.  "I am so glad you've come.  I have a
+few friends coming to dinner this evening and we are dressing."
+Without waiting for a reply Mrs. Craske-Morton turned and disappeared
+along the passage leading to the servants' regions.
+
+At that moment Mr. Bolton appeared at the top of the stairs in his
+shirt sleeves; but at the sight of Patricia he turned and bolted
+precipitately out of sight.
+
+Patricia walked slowly upstairs and along the corridor to her room,
+unconscious that each door she passed was closed upon a tragedy.
+
+In one room Mrs. Barnes sat on her bed in an agony of indecision and a
+camisole, wondering how the seams of her only evening frock could be
+made black with the blue-black ink that had been given her at the
+stationer's shop in error.
+
+Mr. James Harris, a little bearded man with long legs and a short body,
+stood in front of his glass, frankly baffled by the problem of how to
+keep the top of his trousers from showing above the opening of his
+low-cut evening waistcoat, an abandoned garment that seemed determined
+to show all that it was supposed to hide.
+
+Miss Sikkum was engaged in a losing game with delicacy.  On her lap lay
+the Brixton "Paris model blouse," which she had adorned with narrow
+black velvet ribbon.  Should she or should she not enlarge the surface
+of exposure?  If she did Miss Wangle might think her fast; if she did
+not Lord Peter might think her suburban.
+
+Mr. Sefton was at work upon his back hair, striving to remove from his
+reflection in the glass a likeness to a sandy cockatoo.
+
+Mr. Cordal was vainly struggling with a voluminous starched shirt,
+which as he bent seemed determined to give him the appearance of a
+pouter pigeon.
+
+To each his tragedy and to all their anguish.  Even Miss Wangle had her
+problem.  Should she or should she not remove the lace from the modest
+V in her black silk evening gown.  The thought of the bishop, however,
+proved too much for her, and her collar-bones continued to remain a
+mystery to Galvin House.
+
+The dinner-gong found everyone anxious and unprepared.  All had a
+vision of Bowen sitting in judgment upon them and mentally comparing
+Galvin House with Park Lane; for in Bayswater Park Lane is the pinnacle
+of culture and social splendour.
+
+A few minutes after the last strain of the gong, sounded by Gustave in
+a manner worthy of the occasion, had subsided, Miss Sikkum crept out
+from her room feeling very "undressed."  The sight of Mr. Sefton nearly
+drove her back precipitately to the maiden fastness of her chamber.
+"Was she really too undressed?" she asked herself.
+
+Slowly the guests descended, each anxious to cede to others the pride
+of place, all absorbed with his or her particular tragedy.  By the aid
+of pins Mr. Cordal had overcome his likeness to a pigeon, but he had
+not allowed for movement, which tore the pins from their hold, allowing
+his shirt-front to balloon out joyfully before him, for the rest of the
+evening obscuring his boots.
+
+Miss Wangle looked at Miss Sikkum and mentally thanked Heaven and the
+bishop that she had restrained her abandoned impulse to remove the
+black lace from her own neck.
+
+Mr. Bolton's attention was concentrated upon the centre stud of his
+shirt.  The button-hole was too large, and the head of the stud
+insisted on disappearing in a most coquettish and embarrassing manner.
+Mr. Bolton was not sure that Bowen would approve of blue underwear, and
+consequently kept a finger and thumb upon his stud for the greater part
+of the evening.
+
+As each entered the lounge, it was with a hurried glance round to see
+if the guest of the evening had arrived, followed by a sigh of relief
+on discovering that he had not.  Mrs. Craske-Morton had taken the
+precaution of deferring the dinner until eight o'clock.  She wished
+Bowen's entry to be dramatic.
+
+Mrs. Craske-Morton had asked a few friends of her own to meet her
+distinguished guest; a Miss Plimsoll, who was composed in claret colour
+and royal blue trimming, and Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Ragbone.  Mrs. Ragbone
+was a stout, jolly woman with a pronounced cockney accent.  Mr. Ragbone
+was a man whose eyebrows seemed to rise higher with each year, and
+whose manner of patient suffering became more pathetically unreal with
+the passage of each season.  Mrs. Craske-Morton always explained him as
+a solicitor.  Morton, Gofrim and Bowett, of Lincoln's Inn, knew him as
+their chief clerk.
+
+The atmosphere of the lounge was one of nervous tension.  All were
+listening for the bell which would announce the arrival of Bowen.  When
+at last he came, everybody was taken by surprise, Mr. Bolton's stud
+eluded his grasp, Mr. Sefton felt his back hair, whilst Miss Sikkum
+blushed rosily at her own daring.
+
+A dead silence spread over the company, broken by Gustave, who,
+throwing open the door with a flourish, announced "Lieutenant-Colonel
+Lord Peter Bowen, D.S.O."  Bowen gave him a quick glance with widened
+eyes, then coming forward, shook hands with Mrs. Craske-Morton.
+
+Miss Sikkum was disappointed to find that he was in khaki.  She had a
+vague idea that the nobility adopted different evening clothes from the
+ordinary rank and file.  It would have pleased her to see Bowen with
+velvet stripes down his trousers, a velvet collar and velvet cuffs.  A
+coloured silk waistcoat would have convinced her.
+
+Mrs. Craske-Morton was determined to do her work thoroughly.  She had
+taken the precaution of telling Patricia that dinner would not be
+served until a few minutes after eight, that would give her time to
+introduce Bowen to all the guests.  She proceeded to conduct him round
+to everyone in turn.  In her flurry she quite forgot the careful
+schooling to which she had subjected herself for a week past, and she
+introduced Miss Wangle to Bowen.
+
+"Lord Peter, allow me to introduce Miss Wangle.  Miss Wangle, Lord
+Peter Bowen," and this was the form adopted with the rest of the
+company.
+
+Bowen's sixth bow had just been interrupted by Mr. Cordal grasping him
+warmly by the hand, when Patricia entered.  For a moment she looked
+about her regarding the strange toilettes, then she saw Bowen.  She
+felt herself crimsoning as he slipped away from Mr. Cordal's grasp and
+came across to her.  All the guests hung back as if this were the
+meeting between Wellington and Blücher.
+
+"I've done six, there are about twenty more to do.  If you save me,
+Patricia, I'll forgive you anything after we're married."
+
+Patricia shook hands sedately.
+
+Mrs. Craske-Morton bustled up to re-claim Bowen.  "A little surprise,
+Miss Brent; I hope you will forgive me."
+
+Patricia smiled at her in anything but a forgiving spirit.
+
+"And now, Lord Peter, I want to introduce you to----"
+
+"Deenair is served, madame."  Gustave was certainly doing the thing in
+style.
+
+At a sign from Mrs. Craske-Morton, Miss Wangle secured Mr. Samuel
+Ragbone and they started for the dining-room.  The remainder of the
+guests paired off in accordance with Mrs. Craske-Morton's instructions,
+written and verbal, she left nothing to chance, and the procession was
+brought up by Mrs. Craske-Morton herself and Bowen.  Patricia fell to
+the lot of Mr. Sefton.
+
+As soon as the guests were seated a death-like stillness reigned.
+Bowen was looking round with interest as he unfolded his napkin into
+which had been deftly inserted a roll.  Miss Sikkum, Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe and Mr. Bolton each lost their rolls, which were
+retrieved from underneath the table by Gustave and Alice.
+
+Mr. Sefton, also unconscious of the secreted roll, opened his napkin
+with a debonair jerk to show that he was quite at his ease.  The bread
+rose in the air.  He made an unsuccessful clutch, touched but could not
+hold it, and watched with horror the errant roll hit Miss Wangle
+playfully on the side of the nose, just as she was beginning to tell
+Bowen about "the dear bishop."
+
+Patricia bit her lip, Bowen bent solicitously over the angry Miss
+Wangle, whilst Mr. Bolton threatened to report Mr. Sefton to the Food
+Controller.  Gustave created a diversion by arriving with the soup.
+His white cotton gloves, several sizes too large even for his hands,
+caused him great anxiety.  Every spare moment during the evening he
+spent in clutching them at the wrists, just as they were on the point
+of slipping off.  Nothing, however, could daunt his courage or mitigate
+his good-humour.  For the first time in his life he was waiting upon a
+real lord, and from the circumstance he was extracting every ounce of
+satisfaction it possessed.
+
+In serving Bowen his attitude was that of one self-convicted of
+unworthiness.  Accustomed to the complaints and bickerings of a
+Bayswater boarding-house, Bowen's matter-of-fact motions of acceptance
+or refusal impressed him profoundly.  So this was how lords behaved.
+Nothing so impressed him as the little incident of the champagne.
+
+At Galvin House it was the custom for the guests to have their own
+drinks.  Mr. Cordal, for instance, drank what the label on the bottle
+announced to be "Gumton's Superior Light Dinner Ale."  Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe favoured Guinness's Stout, Miss Sikkum took hot water,
+whilst Miss Wangle satisfied herself with a claret bottle.  There is
+refinement in claret, the dear bishop always drank it, with water: but
+as claret costs money Miss Wangle made a bottle last for months.
+
+The thought of the usual heterogeneous collection of bottles on the
+occasion of Lord Peter's visit had filled Mrs. Craske-Morton with
+horror, and she had decided to "spring" wine, as Mr. Bolton put it.  In
+other words, she supplied for the whole company four bottles of
+one-and-eightpenny claret, the bottles rendered beautifully old by
+applied dust and cobwebs.  To this she had added a bottle of grocer's
+champagne for Bowen.  Gustave had been elaborately instructed that this
+was for the principal guest and the principal guest only, and Mrs.
+Craske-Morton had managed to convey to him in some subtle way that if
+he poured so much as a drop of the precious fluid into any other
+person's glass, the consequences would be too terrifying even to
+contemplate.
+
+Whilst Galvin House was murmuring softly over its soup, Gustave
+approached Bowen with the champagne bottle swathed in a white napkin,
+and looking suspiciously like an infant in long clothes.  Holding the
+end of the bottle's robes with the left hand so that it should not
+tickle Bowen's ear, Gustave bent anxiously to his task.
+
+Bowen, however, threw a bomb-shell at the earnest servitor.  He
+motioned that he did not desire champagne.  Gustave hesitated and
+looked enquiringly at his mistress.  Here was an unlooked-for
+development.
+
+"You'll take champagne?" enquired Mrs. Craske-Morton ingratiatingly.
+
+Gustave breathed again, and whilst Bowen's attention was distracted in
+explaining to Mrs. Craske-Morton that he preferred water, he had a
+delicate taste in wine, Gustave filled the glass happily.  Of course,
+it was all right, he told himself, the lord merely wanted to be
+pressed.  If he had really meant "no," he would have put his hand over
+his glass, as Miss Sikkum always did when she refused some of Mr.
+Cordal's "Light Dinner Ale."
+
+Gustave retired victorious with the champagne bottle, which he placed
+upon the sideboard.  At every interval in his manifold duties, Gustave
+returned with the white-clothed bottle, and strove to squeeze a few
+more drops into Bowen's untouched glass.
+
+The terrifying constraint with which the meal had opened gradually wore
+off as the wine circulated.  Following the path of least resistance, it
+mounted to Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe's head; but with Miss Sikkum it seemed
+to stop short at her nose.  Mr. Cordal's shirt-front announced that he
+had temporarily given up Gumton in favour of the red, red wine of the
+smoking-concert baritone.  Mrs. Barnes seemed on the point of tears,
+whilst Mr. Sefton's attentions to Patricia were a direct challenge to
+Bowen.
+
+Conversation at Galvin House was usually general; but it now became
+particular.  Every remark was directed either to or at Bowen, and each
+guest strove to hear what he said.  Those who were fortunate enough to
+catch his replies told those who were not.  A smile or a laugh from
+anyone who might be in conversation with Bowen rippled down the table.
+Mr. Cordal was less intent upon his food, and his inaccuracy of aim
+became more than ever noticeable.
+
+"Oh, Lord Bowen!" simpered Miss Sikkum, "do tell us where you got the
+D.S.O."
+
+Bowen screwed his glass into his eye and looked across at Miss Sikkum,
+at the redness of her nose and the artificial rose in her hair.
+Everyone was waiting anxiously for Bowen's reply.  Mr. Cordal grunted
+approval.
+
+"At Buckingham Palace," said Bowen, "from the King.  They give you
+special leave, you know."
+
+Patricia looked across at him and smiled.  What was he thinking of
+Galvin House refinement?  What did he think of her for being there?
+Well, he had brought it on himself and he deserved his punishment.  At
+first Patricia had been amused: but as the meal dragged wearily on,
+amusement developed into torture.  Would it never end?  She glanced
+from Miss Wangle, all graciousness and smiles, to Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe,
+in her faded blue evening-frock, on to Miss Sikkum bare and abandoned.
+She heard Mr. Sefton's chatter, Mr. Bolton's laugh, Mr. Cordal's jaws
+and lips.  She shuddered.  Why did not she accept the opening of escape
+that now presented itself and marry Bowen?  He could rescue her from
+all this and what it meant.
+
+"And shall we all be asked to the wedding, Lord Bowen?"
+
+It was again Miss Sikkum's thin voice that broke through the curtain of
+Patricia's thoughts.
+
+"I hope all Miss Brent's friends will be there," replied Bowen
+diplomatically.
+
+"And now we shall all have to fetch and carry for Miss Brent," laughed
+Mr. Bolton.  "Am I your friend, Miss Brent?" he enquired.
+
+"She always laughs at your jokes when nobody else can," snapped Miss
+Pilkington.
+
+Everybody turned to the speaker, who during the whole meal had silently
+nursed her resentment at having been placed at the bottom of the table.
+Mr. Bolton looked crestfallen.  Bowen looked across at Patricia and saw
+her smile sympathetically at Mr. Bolton.
+
+"I think from what I have heard, Mr. Bolton," he said, "that you may
+regard yourself as one of the elect."
+
+Patricia flashed Bowen a grateful look.  Mr. Bolton beamed and, turning
+to Miss Pilkington, said with his usual introductory laugh:
+
+"Then I shall return good for evil, Miss Pilkington, and persuade Lady
+Peter to buy her stamps at your place."
+
+Miss Pilkington flushed at this reference to her calling, a
+particularly threadbare joke of Mr. Bolton's.
+
+"When is it to be, Lord Peter?" enquired Mrs. Craske-Morton.
+
+Miss Sikkum looked down modestly at her plate, not quite certain
+whether or no this were a delicate question.
+
+"That rests with Miss Brent," replied Bowen, smiling.  "If you, her
+friends, can persuade her to make it soon, I shall be very grateful."
+
+Miss Sikkum simpered and murmured under her breath, "How romantic."
+
+"Now, Miss Brent," said Mr. Bolton, "it's up to you to name the happy
+day."
+
+Patricia smiled, conscious that all eyes were upon her; but
+particularly conscious of Bowen's gaze.
+
+"I believe in long engagements," she said, stealing a glance at Bowen
+and thrilling at the look of disappointment on his face.  "Didn't Jacob
+serve seven years for Rachel?"
+
+"Yes, and got the wrong girl then," broke in Mr. Bolton.  "You'll have
+to be careful, Miss Brent, or Miss Sikkum will get ahead of you."
+
+"Really, Mr. Bolton!" said Mrs. Craske-Morton, looking anxiously at
+Bowen.
+
+Miss Sikkum's cheeks had assumed the same tint as her nose, and her
+eyes were riveted upon her plate.  Miss Pilkington muttered something
+under her breath about Mr. Bolton's remark being outrageous.
+
+"I think we'll take coffee in the lounge," said Mrs. Craske-Morton,
+rising.  Turning to Bowen, she added, "We follow the American custom,
+Lord Peter, the gentlemen always leave the dining-room with the ladies."
+
+There was a pushing back of chairs and a shuffling of feet and Galvin
+House rose from its repast.
+
+"Coffee will not be served for half an hour, and if you and Miss Brent
+would like to--to----"
+
+Mrs. Craske-Morton paused significantly.  "My boudoir is at your
+service."
+
+Bowen looked at her and then at Patricia.  He saw the flush on her
+cheeks and the humiliation in her eyes.
+
+"I think we should much prefer not to interrupt our pleasant
+conversation.  What do you say, Patricia?" he enquired, turning to
+Patricia, who smiled her acquiescence.
+
+They all trooped into the lounge, where everybody except Patricia,
+Bowen and Mrs. Craske-Morton stood about in awkward poses.  The arrival
+of Gustave with coffee relieved the tension.
+
+For the next hour each guest endeavoured to attract to himself or
+herself Bowen's attention, and each was disappointed when at length he
+rose to go and shook hands only with Mrs. Craske-Morton, including the
+others in a comprehensive bow.  Still more were they disappointed and
+surprised when Patricia did not go out into the hall to see him off.
+
+"Oh, Miss Brent!" simpered Miss Sikkum, "aren't you going to say good
+night to him?"
+
+"Good night!" interrogated Patricia, "but I did."
+
+"Yes; but I mean----" began Miss Sikkum.
+
+"Oh, you know," she said with a simper, but Patricia had passed over to
+a chair, where she seated herself and began to read a newspaper upside
+down.
+
+Miss Sikkum's romantic soul had received a shock.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+MR. TRIGGS TAKES TEA IN KENSINGTON GARDENS
+
+
+I
+
+"Well, me dear, 'ow goes it?"
+
+Mr. Triggs flooded the room with his genial person, mopping his brow
+with a large bandana handkerchief, and blowing a cheerful protest
+against the excessive heat.
+
+Patricia looked up from her work and greeted him with a tired smile, as
+he collapsed heavily upon a chair, which creaked ominously beneath his
+weight.
+
+"When you're sixty-two in the shade it ain't like being twenty-five in
+the sun," he said, laughing happily at his joke.
+
+"Now you must sit quiet and be good," admonished Patricia.  "I'm busy
+with beetles."
+
+"Busy with what?" demanded Mr. Triggs arresting the process of fanning
+himself with his handkerchief.
+
+"The potato-beetle," explained Patricia.  "There is no lack of variety
+in the life of an M.P.'s secretary: babies and beetles, pigs and
+potatoes, meat and margarine, they all have their allotted place."
+
+"Arthur works you too 'ard, me dear, I'm afraid," said Mr. Triggs.  "I
+must speak to 'im about it."
+
+"Oh, Mr. Triggs!  You mustn't do anything of the sort.  He's most kind
+and considerate, and if I am here I must do what he wants."
+
+"But beetles and babies and potatoes, me dear," said Mr. Triggs.
+"That's more than a joke."
+
+"Oh! you don't know what a joke a beetle can be," said Patricia,
+looking up and laughing in spite of herself at the expression of
+anxiety on Mr. Triggs's face.
+
+Mr. Triggs mumbled something to himself.
+
+"God bless my soul!" he exclaimed a moment after.  "'Ere am I,
+forgetting what I come about.  I've seen _The Morning Post_, me dear."
+
+Patricia pushed back her chair from the table and turned and faced Mr.
+Triggs.
+
+"Mr. Triggs," she said, "if you mention the words _Morning Post_ to me
+again I think I shall kill you."
+
+Mr. Triggs's hands dropped to his side as he gazed at her in blank
+astonishment.  "But, me dear----" he began.
+
+"The engagement has been broken off," announced Patricia.
+
+Mr. Triggs's jaw dropped, and he gazed at Patricia in amazement.
+"Broken off," he repeated.  "Engagement broken off.  Why, damn 'im,
+I'll punch 'is 'ead," and he made an effort to rise.
+
+Patricia laughed, a little hysterically.
+
+"You mustn't blame Lord Peter," she said.  "It is I who have broken it
+off."
+
+Mr. Triggs collapsed into the chair again.  "You broke it off," he
+exclaimed.  "You broke off the engagement with a nice young chap like
+'im?"
+
+Patricia nodded.
+
+"Well, I'm blowed!"  Mr. Triggs sat staring at Patricia as if she had
+suddenly become transformed into a dodo.  After nearly a minute's
+contemplation of Patricia, a smile slowly spread itself over his
+features, like the sun breaking through a heavy cloud-laden sky.
+
+"You been 'avin' a quarrel, that's what's the matter," he announced
+with a profound air of wisdom.
+
+Patricia shook her head with an air of finality; but Mr. Triggs
+continued to nod his head wisely.
+
+"That's what's the matter," he muttered.  "Why," he added, "you'll
+never get another young chap like 'im.  Took a great fancy to 'im, I
+did.  Now all you've got to do is just to kiss and make it up.  Then
+you'll feel 'appier than ever afterwards."
+
+Patricia realised the impossibility of conveying to Mr. Triggs that her
+decision was irrevocable.  Furthermore she was anxious that he should
+go, as she had promised to get out certain statistics for Mr. Bonsor.
+
+"Now you really must go, Mr. Triggs.  You won't think me horrid, will
+you, but I had a half-holiday the other day, and now I must work and
+make up for it.  That's only fair, isn't it?"
+
+"Very well, me dear, I can't stay.  I'll be off and get out of your
+way.  Now don't forget.  Make it up, kiss and be friends.  That's my
+motto."
+
+"It isn't a quarrel, Mr. Triggs; but it's no use trying to explain to
+anyone so sweet and nice as you.  Anyhow, I have broken off the
+engagement, and Lord Peter is in no way to blame."
+
+"Well, good-bye, me dear.  I'll see you again soon," said Mr. Triggs,
+still nodding his head with genial conviction as to the rightness of
+his diagnosis.  "And now I'll be trottin'.  Don't forget," and with a
+final look over his shoulder and another nod of wisdom he floated out
+of the room, seeming to leave it cold and bare behind him.
+
+"Well, I'm blowed!" he muttered as he walked away from Eaton Square.
+Arrived at the corner of Eaton Place, he stood still as if uncertain
+what direction to take.  Seeing a crawling taxi he suddenly seemed
+inspired with an idea.
+
+"Hi!  Hi!  Taxi!" he shouted, waving his umbrella.  Having secured the
+taxi and given the man instructions to drive to the Quadrant, he hauled
+himself in and sat down with a sigh of satisfaction.
+
+It was a few minutes to one as he asked for Lord Peter Bowen at the
+enquiry-office of the Quadrant.  Two minutes later Peel descended in
+the lift to inform him that his Lordship had not yet returned to lunch.
+Was Mr. Triggs expected?
+
+"Well, no," confessed Mr. Triggs, looking at Peel a little uncertainly.
+"'E wasn't expecting me; but 'e asked me the other night if I'd call in
+when I was passing, and as I was passing I called in, see?"
+
+For a moment Peel seemed to hesitate.
+
+"His Lordship has a luncheon engagement, sir," he said; "but he could
+no doubt see you for two or three minutes if he asked you to call.
+Perhaps you will step this way."
+
+Before Mr. Triggs had a chance of doing as was suggested, Peel had
+turned aside.
+
+"No, my lady, his Lordship is not in yet; but he will not be more than
+a minute or two.  This gentleman," he looked at the card, "Mr. Triggs,
+is----"
+
+"Oh, Mr. Triggs, how do you do?" cried Lady Tanagra, extending her hand.
+
+Mr. Triggs looked at the exquisite little vision before him in surprise
+and admiration.  He took the proffered hand as if it had been a piece
+of priceless porcelain.
+
+"I'm Lord Peter's sister, you know.  I've heard all about you from
+Patricia.  Do come up and let us have a chat before my brother comes."
+
+Mr. Triggs followed Lady Tanagra into the lift, too surprised and
+bewildered to make any response to her greeting.  As the lift slid
+upwards he mopped his brow vigorously with his handkerchief.
+
+When they were seated in Bowen's sitting-room he at last found voice.
+
+"I just been to see 'er," he said.
+
+"Who, Patricia?" asked Lady Tanagra.
+
+Mr. Triggs nodded, and there was a look in his eyes which implied that
+he was not at all satisfied with what he had seen.
+
+"Quarrelled, 'aven't they?"' he asked.
+
+"Well," began Lady Tanagra, not quite knowing how much Mr. Triggs
+actually knew of the circumstances of the case.
+
+"Said she'd broken it off.  I gave her a talking to, I did.  She'll
+never get another young chap like 'im."
+
+"Did you tell her so?" asked Lady Tanagra.
+
+"Tell her so, I should think I did!" said Mr. Triggs, "and more than
+once too."
+
+"Oh, you foolish, foolish man!" cried Lady Tanagra, wringing her hands
+in mock despair.  A moment afterwards she burst out laughing at the
+comical look of dismay on Mr. Triggs's face.
+
+"What 'ave I done?" he cried in genuine alarm.
+
+"Why, don't you see that you have implied that all the luck is on her
+side, and that will make her simply furious?"
+
+"But--but----" began Mr. Triggs helplessly, looking very much like a
+scolded child.
+
+"Now sit down," ordered Lady Tanagra with an irresistible smile, "and
+I'll tell you.  My brother wants to marry Patricia, and Patricia, for
+some reason best known to herself, says that it can't be done.  Now I'm
+sure that she is fond of Peter; but he has been so impetuous that he
+has rather taken her breath away.  I've never known him like it
+before," said Lady Tanagra plaintively.
+
+"But 'e's an awfully lucky fellow if 'e gets 'er," broke in Mr. Triggs,
+as if feeling that something were required of him.
+
+"Why, of course he is," said Lady Tanagra.  "Now will you help us, Mr.
+Triggs?"
+
+Lady Tanagra looked at him with an expression that would have extracted
+a promise of help from St. Anthony himself.
+
+"Of course I will, me dear.  I--I beg your pardon," stuttered Mr.
+Triggs.
+
+"Never mind, let it stand at that," said Lady Tanagra gaily.  "I'm sure
+we're going to be friends, Mr. Triggs."
+
+"Knew it the moment I set eyes on you," said Mr. Triggs with conviction.
+
+"Well, we've got to arrange this affair for these young people," said
+Lady Tanagra with a wise air.  "First of all we've got to prove to
+Patricia that she is really in love with Peter.  If she's not in love
+with him, then we've got to make her in love with him.  Do you
+understand?"
+
+Mr. Triggs nodded his head with an air that clearly said he was far
+from understanding.
+
+"Well, now," said Lady Tanagra.  "Patricia knows only three people that
+know Peter.  There is you, Godfrey Elton, and myself.  Now if she's in
+love with him she will want to hear about him, and----"
+
+"But ain't she going to see 'im?" demanded Mr. Triggs incredulously.
+
+"No, she says that she doesn't want Peter ever to see her, write to
+her, telephone to her, or, as far as I can see, exist on the same
+planet with her."
+
+"But--but----" began Mr. Triggs.
+
+"It's no good reasoning with a woman, Mr. Triggs, we women are all as
+unreasonable as the Income Tax.  Now if you'll do as you are told we
+will prove that Patricia is wrong."
+
+"Very well, me dear," began Mr. Triggs.
+
+"Now this is my plan," interrupted Lady Tanagra.  "If Patricia really
+cares for Peter she will want to hear about him from friends.  She
+will, very cleverly, as she thinks, lead up the conversation to him
+when she meets you, or when she meets Godfrey Elton, or when she meets
+me.  Now what we have to do is just as carefully to avoid talking about
+him.  Turn the conversation on to some other topic.  Now we've all got
+to plot and scheme and plan like--like----"
+
+"Germans," interrupted Mr. Triggs.
+
+"Splendid!" cried Lady Tanagra, clapping her hands.
+
+"But why has she changed her mind?" asked Mr. Triggs.
+
+"You must never ask a woman why she changes her frock, or why she
+changes her mind, because she never really knows," said Lady Tanagra.
+"Probably she does it because she hasn't got anything else particular
+to do at the moment.  Ah! here's Peter," she cried.
+
+Bowen came forward and shook hands cordially with Mr. Triggs.
+
+"This is splendid of you!" he said.  "You'll lunch with us, of course."
+
+"Oh no, no," said Mr. Triggs.  "I just ran in to--to----"
+
+"To get to know me," said Lady Tanagra with a smile.
+
+"Of course!  That's it," cried Mr. Triggs, beaming.  "I can't stop to
+lunch though, I'm afraid.  I must be going to----"
+
+"Have you got a luncheon engagement?" asked Lady Tanagra.
+
+"Er--well, yes."
+
+"Please don't tell fibs, Mr. Triggs.  You're not engaged to lunch with
+anybody, and you're going to lunch with us, so that's settled."
+
+"Why, bless my soul!" blew Mr. Triggs helplessly as he mopped his head
+with his handkerchief.  "Why, bless my soul!"
+
+"It's no good, Mr. Triggs.  When Tanagra wants anything she has it,"
+said Bowen with a laugh.  "It doesn't matter whether it's the largest
+pear or the nicest man!"
+
+Lady Tanagra laughed.  "Now we'll go down into the dining-room."
+
+For an hour and a half they talked of Patricia, and at the end of the
+meal both Lady Tanagra and Bowen knew that they had a firm ally in Mr.
+Triggs.
+
+"Don't forget, Mr. Triggs," cried Lady Tanagra as she bade him good-bye
+in the vestibule.  "You're a match-maker now, and you must be very
+careful."
+
+And Mr. Triggs lifted his hat and waved his umbrella as, wreathed in
+smiles, he trotted towards the revolving doors and out into the street.
+
+After he had gone Lady Tanagra extracted from Bowen a grudging promise
+of implicit obedience.  He must not see, telephone, write or telegraph
+to Patricia.  He was to eliminate himself altogether.
+
+"But for how long, Tan?" he enquired moodily.
+
+"It may be for years and it may be for ever," cried Lady Tanagra gaily
+as she buttoned her gloves.  "Anyhow, it's your only chance."
+
+"Damn!" muttered Bowen under his breath as he watched her disappear;
+"but I'll give it a trial."
+
+
+II
+
+The next afternoon as Patricia walked down the steps of Number 426
+Eaton Square and turned to the left, she was conscious that in spite of
+the summer sunshine the world was very grey about her.  She had not
+gone a hundred yards before Lady Tanagra's grey car slid up beside her.
+
+"Will you take pity on me, Patricia?  I'm at a loose end," cried Lady
+Tanagra.
+
+Patricia turned with a little cry of pleasure.
+
+"Jump in," cried Lady Tanagra.  "It's no good refusing a Bowen.  Our
+epidermises are too thick, or should it be epidermi?"
+
+Patricia shook her head and laughed as she seated herself beside Lady
+Tanagra.
+
+The car crooned its way up Sloane Street and across into Knightsbridge,
+Lady Tanagra intent upon her driving.
+
+"Is it indiscreet to ask where you are taking me?" enquired Patricia
+with elaborate humility.
+
+Lady Tanagra laughed as she jammed on the brake to avoid running into
+the stern of a motor-omnibus.
+
+"I feel like a pirate to-day.  I want to run away with someone, or do
+something desperate.  Have you ever felt like that?"
+
+"A politician's secretary must not encourage such unrespectable
+instincts," she replied.
+
+Lady Tanagra looked at her quickly, noting the flatness of her voice.
+
+"A wise hen should never brood upon being a hen," she remarked
+oracularly.
+
+Patricia laughed.  "It is all very well for Dives to tell Lazarus that
+it is noble to withstand the pangs of hunger," she replied.
+
+"Now let us go and get tea," said Lady Tanagra, as she turned the car
+into the road running between Kensington Gardens and Hyde Park.
+
+"Tea!" cried Patricia, "why it's past five."
+
+"Tea is a panacea for all ills and a liquid for all hours.  You have
+only to visit a Government Department for proof of that," said Lady
+Tanagra, as she descended from the car and walked towards the
+umbrella-sheltered tea-tables dotted about beneath the trees.  "And now
+I want to have a talk with you for a few minutes," she said as they
+seated themselves at an empty table.
+
+"I feel in the mood for listening," said Patricia, "provided it is not
+to be good advice," she added.
+
+"I've been having a serious talk with Peter," said Lady Tanagra.
+
+Patricia looked up at her.  Overhead white, fleecy clouds played a game
+of hide-and-seek with the sunshine.  The trees rustled languidly in the
+breeze, and in the distance a peacock screamed ominously.
+
+"I have told him," continued Lady Tanagra, "that I will not have you
+worried, and he has promised me not to see you, write to you, telephone
+to you, send you messenger-boys, chocolates, flowers or anything else
+in the world, in fact he's out of your way for ever and ever."
+
+Patricia looked across at Lady Tanagra in surprise, but said nothing.
+
+"I told him," continued Lady Tanagra evenly, "that I would not have my
+friendship with you spoiled through his impetuous blundering.  I think
+I told him he was suburban.  In fact I quite bullied the poor boy.  So
+now," she added with the air of one who has earned a lifelong debt of
+gratitude, "you will be able to go your way without fear of the
+ubiquitous Peter."
+
+Still Patricia said nothing as she sat looking down upon the empty
+plate before her.
+
+"Now we will forget all about Peter and talk and think of other things.
+Ah! here he is," she cried suddenly.
+
+Patricia looked round quickly; but at the sight of Godfrey Elton she
+was conscious of a feeling of disappointment that she would not,
+however, admit.  Her greeting of Elton was a trifle forced.
+
+Patricia was never frank with herself.  If it had been suggested that
+for a moment she hoped that Lady Tanagra's remark referred to Bowen,
+she would instantly have denied it.
+
+"No, Godfrey, don't look at me like that," cried Lady Tanagra.  "I am
+not so gauche as to arrange a parti-à-trois.  I've got someone very
+nice coming for Patricia."
+
+Again Patricia felt herself thrill expectantly.  Five minutes later Mr.
+Triggs was seen sailing along among the tables as if in search of
+someone.  Again Patricia felt that sense of disappointment she had
+experienced on the arrival of Godfrey Elton.
+
+Suddenly Mr. Triggs saw the party and streamed towards them, waving his
+red silk handkerchief in one hand and his umbrella in the other.
+
+"He has found something better than the fountain of eternal youth,"
+said Elton to Patricia.
+
+"Whatever it is he is unconscious of possessing it," replied Patricia
+as she turned to greet Mr. Triggs.
+
+"I'm late, I know," explained Mr. Triggs as he shook hands.  "I 'ad to
+run in and see 'Ettie and tell 'er I was coming.  It surprised 'er,"
+and Mr. Triggs chuckled as if at some joke he could not share with the
+others.
+
+"Now let us have tea," said Lady Tanagra.  "I'm simply dying for it."
+
+Mr. Triggs sank down heavily into a basket chair.  He looked about
+anxiously, as it creaked beneath his weight, as if in doubt whether or
+no it would bear him.
+
+"All we want now is----"  Mr. Triggs stopped suddenly and looked
+apprehensively at Lady Tanagra.
+
+"What is it you want, Mr. Triggs?" enquired Patricia quickly.
+
+"Er--er--I--I forget, I--I forget," floundered Mr. Triggs, still
+looking anxiously at Lady Tanagra.
+
+"When you're in the company of women, Mr. Triggs, you should never
+appear to want anything else.  It makes an unfavourable impression upon
+us."
+
+"God bless my soul, I don't!" cried Mr. Triggs earnestly.  "I've been
+looking forward to this ever since I got your wire yesterday afternoon."
+
+"Now he has given me away," cried Lady Tanagra.  "How like a man!"
+
+"Given you away, me dear!" cried Mr. Triggs anxiously.  "What 'ave I
+done?"
+
+"Why, you have told these two people here that made an assignation with
+you by telegram."
+
+"Made a what, me dear?" enquired Mr. Triggs, his forehead corrugated
+with anxiety.
+
+"Lady Tanagra is taking a mean advantage of the heat, Mr. Triggs," said
+Elton.
+
+"Anyway, I'll forgive you anything, Mr. Triggs, as you have come," said
+Lady Tanagra.
+
+Mr. Triggs's brow cleared and he smiled.
+
+"Come!  I should think I would come," he said.
+
+Lady Tanagra then explained her meeting with Mr. Triggs and how he had
+striven to avoid her company at luncheon on the previous day.  Mr.
+Triggs protested vigorously.
+
+During the tea the conversation was entirely in the hands of Lady
+Tanagra, Elton and Mr. Triggs.  Patricia sat silently listening to the
+others.  Several times Lady Tanagra and Mr. Triggs exchanged meaning
+glances.
+
+"Why ain't you talking, me dear?" Mr. Triggs once asked.
+
+"I like to hear you all," said Patricia, smiling across at him.
+"You're all too clever for me," she added.
+
+"Me clever!" cried Mr. Triggs, and then as if the humour of the thing
+had suddenly struck him he went off into gurgles of laughter.  "You
+ought to tell 'Ettie that," he spluttered.  "She thinks 'er old
+father's a fool.  Me clever!" he repeated, and again he went off into
+ripples of mirth.
+
+"What are your views on love, Mr. Triggs?" demanded Lady Tanagra
+suddenly.
+
+Mr. Triggs gazed at her in surprise.
+
+Then he looked from Patricia to Elton, as if not quite sure whether or
+no he were expected to be serious.
+
+"If I were you I should decline to reply.  Lady Tanagra treats serious
+subjects flippantly," said Elton.  "Her attitude towards life is to
+prepare a pancake as if it were a soufflé."
+
+"That proves the Celt in me," cried Lady Tanagra.  "If I were English I
+should make a soufflé as if it were a pancake."
+
+Mr. Triggs looked from one to the other in obvious bewilderment.
+
+"I am perfectly serious in my question," said Lady Tanagra, without the
+vestige of a smile.  "Mr. Triggs is elemental."
+
+"To be elemental is to be either indelicate or overbearing," murmured
+Elton, "and Mr. Triggs is neither."
+
+"Love, me dear?" said Mr. Triggs, not in the least understanding the
+trend of the conversation.  "I don't think I've got any ideas about it."
+
+"Surely you are not a cynic. Mr. Triggs," demanded Lady Tanagra.
+
+"A what?" enquired Mr. Triggs.
+
+"Surely you believe in love," said Lady Tanagra.
+
+"Me and Mrs. Triggs lived together 'appily for over thirty years," he
+replied gravely, "and when a man an' woman 'ave lived together for all
+that time they get to believe in love.  It's never been the same since
+she died."  His voice became a little husky, and Elton looked at Lady
+Tanagra, who lowered her eyes.
+
+"I'm sorry, Mr. Triggs.  Will you tell us about--about----?" she broke
+off.
+
+"Well, you see, me dear," said Mr. Triggs in an uncertain voice, "I was
+a foreman when I met 'er, and she was a servant; but--somehow or other
+it seemed that we were just made for each other.  Once I knew 'er, I
+didn't seem to be able to see things without her.  When I was at
+work--I was in the building trade, foreman-carpenter," he explained, "I
+used to be thinking of 'er all the time.  If I went anywhere without
+'er--she only had one night off a week and one day a month--I would
+always keep thinking of how she would like what I was seeing, or
+eating.  It was a funny feeling," he added reminiscently as if entirely
+unable to explain it.  "Somehow or other I always wanted to 'ave 'er
+with me, so that she might share what I was 'aving.  It was a funny
+feeling," he repeated, and he looked from one to another with moist
+eyes.  "Of course," he added, "I can't explain things like that.  I'm
+not clever."
+
+"I think, Mr. Triggs, that you've explained love in--in----"  Lady
+Tanagra broke off and looked at Elton, who was unusually grave.
+
+"Mr. Triggs has explained it," he replied, "in the only way in which it
+can be explained, and that is by being defined as unexplainable."
+
+Mr. Triggs looked at Elton for a moment, then nodded his head violently.
+
+"That's it, Mr. Elton, that's it.  It's a feeling, not a thing that you
+can put into words."
+
+Lady Tanagra looked at Patricia, who was apparently engrossed in the
+waving tops of the trees.
+
+"I shall always remember your definition of love, Mr. Triggs," said
+Lady Tanagra with a far away look in her eyes.  "I think you and Mrs.
+Triggs must have been very happy together."
+
+"'Appy, me dear, that wasn't the word for it," said Mr. Triggs.  "And
+when she was taken, I--I----" he broke off huskily and blew his nose
+vigorously.
+
+"Suppose you were very poor, Mr. Triggs," began Patricia.
+
+"I was when I married," interrupted Mr. Triggs.
+
+"Suppose you were very poor," continued Patricia, "and you loved
+someone very rich.  What would you do?"
+
+"God bless my soul!  I never thought of that.  You see Emily 'adn't
+anything.  She only got sixteen pounds a year."
+
+Lady Tanagra turned her head aside and blinked her eyes furiously.
+
+"But suppose, Mr. Triggs," persisted Patricia, "suppose you loved
+someone who was very rich and you were very poor.  What would you do?
+Would you tell them?"
+
+For a moment Patricia allowed her eyes to glance in the direction of
+Elton, and saw that his gaze was fixed upon Mr. Triggs.
+
+"But what 'as money got to do with it?" demanded Mr. Triggs, a puzzled
+expression on his face.
+
+"Exactly!" said Patricia.  "That's what I wanted to know."
+
+"Money sometimes has quite a lot to do with life," remarked Elton to no
+one in particular.
+
+"With life, Mr. Elton," said Mr. Triggs; "but not with love."
+
+"You are an idealist," said Lady Tanagra.
+
+"Am I?" said Mr. Triggs, with a smile.
+
+"And he is also a dear," said Patricia.
+
+Mr. Triggs looked at her and smiled.
+
+
+Lady Tanagra and Elton drove off, Patricia saying that she wanted a
+walk.  Mr. Triggs also declined Lady Tanagra's offer of a lift.
+
+"She wanted me to bring 'er with me," announced Mr. Triggs as they
+strolled along by the Serpentine.
+
+"Who did?"' enquired Patricia.
+
+"'Ettie.  Ran up to change 'er things and sent out for a taxi."
+
+"And what did you say?" enquired Patricia.
+
+"I didn't say anything; but when the taxi come I just slipped in and
+came along 'ere.  Fancy 'Ettie and Lady Tanagra!" said Mr. Triggs.
+"No," he added a moment later.  "It's no good trying to be what you
+ain't.  If 'Ettie was to remember she's a builder's daughter, and not
+think she's a great lady, she'd be much 'appier," said Mr. Triggs with
+unconscious wisdom.
+
+"Suppose I was to try and be like Mr. Elton," continued Mr. Triggs,
+"I'd look like a fool."
+
+"We all love to have you just as you are, Mr. Triggs, and we won't
+allow you to change," said Patricia.
+
+Mr. Triggs smiled happily.  He was as susceptible to flattery as a
+young girl.
+
+"Well, it ain't much good trying to be what you're not.  I've been a
+working-man, and I'm not ashamed of it, and you and Lady Tanagra and
+Mr. Elton ain't ashamed of being seen with me.  But 'Ettie, she'd no
+more be seen with 'er old father in Hyde Park than she'd be seen with
+'im in a Turkish bath."
+
+"We all have our weaknesses, don't you think?" said Patricia.
+
+And Mr. Triggs agreed.
+
+"You, for instance, have a weakness for High Society," continued
+Patricia.
+
+"Me, me dear!" exclaimed Mr. Triggs in surprise.
+
+"Yes," said Patricia, "it's no good denying it.  Don't you like knowing
+Lord Peter and Lady Tanagra, Mr. Elton and all the rest of them?"
+
+"It's not because they're in Society," began Mr. Triggs.
+
+"Oh, yes it is!  You imagine that you are now a very great personage.
+Soon you will be moving from Streatham into Park Lane, and then you
+will not know me."
+
+"Oh, me dear!" said Mr. Triggs in distress.
+
+"It's no good denying it," continued Patricia.  "Look at the way you
+made friends with Lord Peter."  Patricia was priding herself on the way
+in which she had led the conversation round to Bowen; but Mr. Triggs
+was not to be drawn.
+
+"God bless my soul!" he cried, stopping still and removing his hat,
+mopping his brow vigorously.  "I don't mind whether anyone has a title
+or not.  It's just them I like.  Now look at Lady Tanagra.  No one
+would think she was a lady."
+
+"Really, Mr. Triggs!  I shall tell her if you take her character away
+in this manner.  She's one of the most exquisitely bred people I have
+ever met."
+
+Mr. Triggs looked reproachfully at Patricia.
+
+"It's a bit 'ard on a young gal when she finds 'er father drops 'is
+aitches," he remarked, reverting to his daughter.  "I often wonder
+whether I was right in giving 'Ettie such an education.  She went to an
+'Igh School at Eastmouth," he added.  "It only made 'er dissatisfied.
+It was 'ard luck 'er 'aving me for a father," he concluded more to
+himself than to Patricia.
+
+"I am perfectly willing to adopt you as a father, Mr. Triggs, if you
+are in want of adoption," said Patricia.
+
+Mr. Triggs turned to her with a sunny smile.
+
+"Ah! you're different, me dear.  You see you're a lady born, same as
+Lady Tanagra; but 'Ettie ain't.  That's what makes 'er sensitive like.
+It's a funny world," Mr. Triggs continued; "if you go about with one
+boot, and you 'appen to be a duke, people make a fuss of you because
+you're a character; but if you 'appen to be a builder and go about in
+the same way they call you mad."
+
+That evening Patricia was particularly unresponsive to Mr. Bolton's
+attempts to engage her in conversation.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+PATRICIA'S INCONSTANCY
+
+Patricia's engagement and approaching marriage were the sole topics of
+conversation at Galvin House, at meal-times in particular.  Bowen was
+discussed and admired from every angle and aspect.  Questions rained
+upon Patricia.  When was she likely to get married?  Where was the
+wedding to take place?  Would she go abroad for her honeymoon?  Who was
+to provide the wedding-cake?  Where did she propose to get her
+trousseau?  Would the King and Queen be present at the wedding?
+
+At first Patricia had endeavoured to answer coherently; but finding
+this useless, she soon drifted into the habit of replying at random,
+with the result that Galvin House received much curious information.
+
+Miss Wangle's olive-branch was an announcement of how pleased the dear
+bishop would have been to marry Miss Brent and Lord Peter had he been
+alive.
+
+Mr. Bolton joked as feebly as ever.  Mr. Cordal masticated with his
+wonted vigour.  Mr. Sefton became absorbed in the prospect of the
+raising of the military age limit, and strove to hearten himself by
+constant references to the time when he would be in khaki.  Miss Sikkum
+continued to surround herself with an atmosphere of romance, and
+invariably returned in the evening breathless from her chaste
+endeavours to escape from some "awful man" who had pursued her.  The
+reek of cooking seemed to become more obvious, and the dreariness of
+Sundays more pronounced.  Some times Patricia thought of leaving Galvin
+House for a place where she would be less notorious; but something
+seemed to bind her to the old associations.
+
+As she returned each evening, her eyes instinctively wandered towards
+the table and the letter-rack.  If there were a parcel, her heart would
+bound suddenly, only to resume its normal pace when she discovered that
+it was for someone else.
+
+Of Lady Tanagra she saw little, news of Bowen she received none.  Her
+most dexterous endeavours to cross-examine Mr. Triggs ended in failure.
+He seemed to have lost all interest in Bowen.  Lady Tanagra never even
+mentioned his name.
+
+Whatever the shortcomings of Lady Tanagra and Mr. Triggs in this
+direction, however, they were more than compensated for by Mrs. Bonsor.
+Her effusive friendliness Patricia found overwhelming, and her
+insistent hospitality, which took the form of a flood of invitations to
+Patricia and Bowen to lunch, dine or to do anything they chose in her
+house or elsewhere, was bewildering.
+
+At last in self-defence Patricia had to tell Mrs. Bonsor that Bowen was
+too much occupied with his duties even to see her; but this seemed to
+increase rather than diminish Mrs. Bonsor's hospitable instincts, which
+included Lady Tanagra as well as her brother.  Would not Miss Brent
+bring Lady Tanagra to tea or to luncheon one day?  Perhaps they would
+take tea with Mrs. Bonsor at the Ritz one afternoon?  Could they lunch
+at the Carlton?  To all of these invitations Patricia replied with cold
+civility.
+
+In her heart Mrs. Bonsor was raging against the "airs" of her husband's
+secretary; but she saw that Lady Tanagra and Lord Peter might be
+extremely useful to her and to her husband in his career.  Consequently
+she did not by any overt sign show her pique.
+
+One day when Patricia was taking down letters for Mr. Bonsor, Mr.
+Triggs burst into the library in a state of obvious excitement.
+
+"Where's 'Ettie?" he demanded, after having saluted Patricia and Mr.
+Bonsor.
+
+Mr. Bonsor looked at him reproachfully.
+
+"'Ere, ring for 'Ettie, A. B., I've got something to show you all."
+
+Mr. Bonsor pressed the bell.  As he did so Mrs. Bonsor entered the
+room, having heard her father's voice.
+
+With great empressement Mr. Triggs produced from the tail pocket of his
+coat a folded copy of the "Illustrated Universe".  Flattening it out
+upon the table he moistened his thumb and finger and, with great
+deliberation, turned over several leaves, then indicating a page he
+demanded:
+
+"What do you think of that?"
+
+"That," was a full-page picture of Lady Tanagra walking in the Park
+with Mr. Triggs.  The portrait of Lady Tanagra was a little indistinct;
+but that of Mr. Triggs was as clear as daylight, and a remarkable
+likeness.  Underneath was printed "Lady Tanagra Bowen and a friend
+walking in the Park."
+
+Mrs. Bonsor devoured the picture and then looked up at her father, a
+new respect in her eyes.
+
+"What do you think of it, 'Ettie?" enquired Mr. Triggs again.
+
+"It's a very good likeness, father," said Mrs. Bonsor weakly.
+
+It was Patricia, however, who expressed what Mr. Triggs had anticipated.
+
+"You're becoming a great personage, Mr. Triggs," she cried.  "If you
+are not careful you will compromise Lady Tanagra."
+
+Mr. Triggs chuckled with glee as he mopped his forehead with his
+handkerchief.
+
+"I rang 'er up this morning," he said.
+
+"Rang who up, father?" enquired Mrs. Bonsor.
+
+"Lady Tan," said Mr. Triggs, watching his daughter to see the effect of
+the diminutive upon her.
+
+"Was she annoyed?" enquired Mrs. Bonsor.
+
+"Annoyed!" echoed Mr. Triggs.  "Annoyed!  She was that pleased she's
+asked me to lunch to-morrow.  Why, she introduced me to a duchess last
+week, an' I'm goin' to 'er place to tea."
+
+"I wish you would bring Lady Tanagra here one day, father," said Mrs.
+Bonsor.  "Why not ask her to lunch here to-morrow?"
+
+"Not me, 'Ettie," said Mr. Triggs wisely.  "If you want the big fish,
+you've got to go out and catch 'em yourself."
+
+There was a pause.  Patricia hid a smile in her handkerchief.  Mr.
+Bonsor was deep in a speech upon the question of rationing fish.
+
+"Well, A. B., what 'ave you got to say?"
+
+"Dear fish may mean revolution," murmured Mr. Bonsor.
+
+Mr. Triggs looked at his son-in-law in amazement.
+
+"What's that you say?" he demanded.
+
+"I--I beg your pardon.  I--I was thinking," apologised Mr. Bonsor.
+
+"Now, father," said Mrs. Bonsor, "will you come into the morning-room?
+I want to talk to you, and I'm sure Arthur wants to get on with his
+work."
+
+Mr. Triggs was reluctantly led away, leaving Patricia to continue the
+day's work.
+
+Patricia now saw little of Mr. Triggs, in fact since Lady Tanagra had
+announced that Bowen would no longer trouble her, she found life had
+become singularly grey.  Things that before had amused and interested
+her now seemed dull and tedious.  Mr. Bolton's jokes were more obvious
+than ever, and Mr. Cordal's manners more detestable.
+
+The constant interrogations levelled at her as to where Bowen was, and
+why he had not called to see her, she found difficult to answer.
+Several times she had gone alone to the theatre, or to a cinema, in
+order that it might be thought she was with Bowen.  At last the strain
+became so intolerable that she spoke to Mrs. Craske-Morton, hinting
+that unless Galvin House took a little less interest in her affairs,
+she would have to leave.
+
+The effect of her words was instantly manifest.  Wherever she moved she
+seemed to interrupt whispering groups.  When she entered the
+dining-room there would be a sudden cessation of conversation, and
+everyone would look up with an innocence that was too obvious to
+deceive even themselves.  If she went into the lounge on her return
+from Eaton Square, the same effect was noticeable.  When she was
+present the conversation was forced and artificial.  Sentences would be
+begun and left unfinished, as if the speaker had suddenly remembered
+that the subject was taboo.
+
+Patricia found herself wishing that they would speak out what was in
+their minds.  Anything would be preferable to the air of mystery that
+seemed to pervade the whole place.  She could not be unaware of the
+significant glances that were exchanged when it was thought she was not
+looking.  Several times she had been asked if she were not feeling
+well, and her looking-glass reflected a face that was pale and drawn,
+with dark lines under the eyes.
+
+One evening, when she had gone to her room directly after dinner, there
+was a gentle knock at her door.  She opened it to find Mrs. Hamilton,
+looking as if it would take only a word to send her creeping away again.
+
+"Come in, you dear little Grey Lady," cried Patricia, putting her arm
+affectionately round Mrs. Hamilton's small shoulders, and leading her
+over to a basket-chair by the window.
+
+For some time they talked of nothing in particular.  At last Mrs.
+Hamilton said:
+
+"I--I hope you won't think me impertinent, my dear; but--but----"
+
+"I should never think anything you said or did impertinent," said
+Patricia, smiling.
+
+"You know----" began Mrs. Hamilton, and then broke off.
+
+"Anyone would think you were thoroughly afraid of me," said Patricia
+with a smile.
+
+"I don't like interfering," said Mrs. Hamilton, "but I am very worried."
+
+She looked so pathetic in her anxiety that Patricia bent down and
+kissed her on the cheek.
+
+"You dear little thing," she cried, "tell me what is on your mind, and
+I will do the best I can to help you."
+
+"I am very--er--worried about you, my dear," began Mrs. Hamilton
+hesitatingly.  "You are looking so pale and tired and worn.  I--I fear
+you have something on your mind and--and----" she broke off, words
+failing her.
+
+"It's the summer," replied Patricia, smiling.  "I always find the hot
+weather trying, more trying even than Mr. Bolton's jokes," she smiled.
+
+"Are you--are you sure it's nothing else?" said Mrs. Hamilton.
+
+"Quite sure," said Patricia.  "What else should it be?"  She was
+conscious of her reddening cheeks.
+
+"You ought to go out more," said Mrs. Hamilton gently.  "After sitting
+indoors all day you want fresh air and exercise."
+
+And with that Mrs. Hamilton had to rest content.
+
+Patricia could not explain the absurd feeling she experienced that she
+might miss something if she left the house.  It was all so vague, so
+intangible.  All she was conscious of was some hidden force that seemed
+to bind her to the house, or, when by an effort of will she broke from
+its influence, seemed to draw her back again.  She could not analyse
+the feeling, she was only conscious of its existence.
+
+From Miss Brent she had received a characteristic reply to her letter.
+
+
+"DEAR PATRICIA," she wrote,
+
+"I have read with pain and surprise your letter.  What your poor dear
+father would have thought I cannot conceive.
+
+"What I did was done from the best motives, as I felt you were
+compromising yourself by a secret engagement.
+
+"I am sorry to find that you have become exceedingly self-willed of
+late, and I fear London has done you no good.
+
+"As your sole surviving relative, it is my duty to look after your
+welfare.  This I promised your dear father on his death-bed.
+
+"Gratitude I do not ask, nor do I expect it; but I am determined to do
+my duty by my brother's child.  I cannot but deplore the tone in which
+you last wrote to me, and also the rather foolish threat that your
+letter contained.
+
+"Your affectionate aunt,
+  "ADELAIDE BRENT.
+
+"P.S.--I shall make a point of coming up to London soon.  Even your
+rudeness will not prevent me from doing my duty by my brother's
+child.--A. B."
+
+
+As she tore up the letter, Patricia remembered her father once saying,
+"Your aunt's sense of duty is the most offensive sense I have ever
+encountered."
+
+One day as Patricia was endeavouring to sort out into some sort of
+coherence a sheaf of notes that Mr. Bonsor had made upon Botulism, Mr.
+Triggs entered the library.  After his cheery "How goes it, me dear?"
+he stood for some moments gazing down at her solicitously.
+
+"You ain't lookin' well, me dear," he said with conviction.
+
+"That's a sure way to a woman's heart," replied Patricia gaily.
+
+"'Ow's that, me dear?" he questioned.
+
+"Why, telling her that she's looking plain," retorted Patricia.
+
+Mr. Triggs protested.
+
+"All I want is a holiday," went on Patricia.  "There are only three
+weeks to wait and then----"
+
+There was, however, no joy of anticipation in her voice.
+
+"You're frettin'!"
+
+Patricia turned angrily upon Mr. Triggs.
+
+"Fretting!  What on earth do you mean, Mr. Triggs?" she demanded.
+
+Mr. Triggs sat down suddenly, overwhelmed by Patricia's indignation.
+
+"Don't be cross with me, me dear."  Mr. Triggs looked so like a child
+fearing rebuke that she was forced to smile.
+
+"You must not say absurd things then," she retorted.  "What have I got
+to fret about?"
+
+Mr. Triggs quailed beneath her challenging glance.  "I--I'm sorry, me
+dear," he said contritely.
+
+"Don't be sorry, Mr. Triggs," said Patricia severely; "be accurate."
+
+"I'm sorry, me dear," repeated Mr. Triggs.
+
+"But that doesn't answer my question," Patricia persisted.  "What have
+I to fret about?"
+
+Mr. Triggs mopped his brow vigorously.  He invariably expressed his
+emotions with his handkerchief.  He used it strategically, tactically,
+defensively, continuously.  It was to him what the lines of Torres
+Vedras were to Wellington.  He retired behind its sheltering folds, to
+emerge a moment later, his forces reorganised and re-arrayed.  When at
+a loss what to say or do, it was his handkerchief upon which he fell
+back; if he required time in which to think, he did it behind its ample
+and protecting folds.
+
+"You see, me dear," said Mr. Triggs at length, avoiding Patricia's
+relentless gaze, as he proceeded to stuff away the handkerchief in his
+tail pocket.  "You see, me dear----"  Again he paused.  "You see, me
+dear," he began for a third time, "I thought you was frettin' over your
+work or something, when you ought to be enjoyin' yourself," he lied.
+
+Patricia looked at him, her conscience smiting her.  She smiled
+involuntarily.
+
+"I never fret about anything except when you don't come to see me," she
+said gaily.
+
+Mr. Triggs beamed with good-humour, his fears now quite dispelled.
+
+"You're run down, me dear," he said with decision.  "You want an
+'oliday.  I must speak to A. B. about it."
+
+"If you do I shall be very angry," said Patricia; "Mr. Bonsor is always
+very kind and considerate."
+
+"It--it isn't----" began Mr. Triggs, then paused.
+
+"It isn't what?" Patricia smiled at his look of concern.
+
+"If--if it is," began Mr. Triggs.  Again he paused, then added with a
+gulp, "Couldn't I lend you some?"
+
+For a moment Patricia failed to follow the drift of his remark, then
+when she appreciated that he was offering to lend her money she
+flushed.  For a moment she did not reply, then seeing the anxiety
+stamped upon his kindly face, she said with great deliberation:
+
+"I think you must be quite the nicest man in all the world.  If ever I
+decide to borrow money I'll come to you first."
+
+Mr. Triggs blushed like a schoolboy.  He had fully anticipated being
+snubbed.  He had found from experience that Patricia had of late become
+very uncertain in her moods.
+
+They were interrupted by the entrance of Mr. Bonsor.
+
+"'Ere, A. B.!" cried Mr. Triggs.  "What do you mean by it?"
+
+"Mean by what?" enquired Mr. Bonsor, busy with an imaginary speech upon
+street noises, suggested by a barrel-piano in the distance.
+
+"You're working 'er too 'ard, A. B.," said Mr. Triggs with conviction.
+
+"Working who too hard?"  Mr. Bonsor looked helplessly at Patricia.  He
+was always at a disadvantage with his father-in-law, whose bluntness of
+speech seemed to demoralise him.
+
+"Mr. Triggs thinks that you are slowly killing me," laughed Patricia.
+
+Mr. Bonsor looked uncertainly at Patricia, and Mr. Triggs gazed at Mr.
+Bonsor.  He had no very high opinion of his daughter's husband.
+
+"Well, mind you don't overwork 'er," said Mr. Triggs as he rose to go.
+A few minutes later Patricia was deep in the absorbing subject of the
+life history of the potato-beetle.
+
+"Ugh!" she cried as the clock in the hall chimed five.  "I hate
+beetles, and," she paused a moment to tuck away a stray strand of hair,
+"I never want to see a potato as long as I live."
+
+That evening when she reached Galvin House she went to her room, and
+there subjected herself to a searching examination in the
+looking-glass, she was forced to confess to the paleness of her face
+and dark marks beneath her eyes.  She explained them by summer in
+London, coupled with the dreariness of Arthur Bonsor, M.P., and his
+mania for statistics.
+
+"You're human yeast, Patricia!" she murmured to her reflection; "at
+least you're paid two-and-a-half guineas a week to try to leaven the
+unleavenable, and you mustn't complain if sometimes you get a little
+tired.  Fretting!"  There was indignation in her voice.  "What have you
+got to fret about?"
+
+With the passage of each day, however, she grew more listless and
+weary.  She came to dread meal-times, with their irritating chatter and
+uninspiring array of faces that she had come almost to dislike.  She
+was conscious of whisperings and significant looks among her
+fellow-boarders.  She resented even Gustave's cow-like gaze of
+sympathetic anxiety as she declined the food he offered her.
+
+Lady Tanagra and Mr. Triggs never asked her out.  Everybody seemed
+suddenly to have deserted her.  Sometimes she would catch a glimpse of
+them in the Park on Sunday morning Once she saw Bowen; but he did not
+see her.  "The daily round and common task" took on a new and sinister
+meaning for her.  Sometimes her thoughts would travel on a few years
+into the future.  What did it hold for her?  Instinctively she
+shuddered at the loneliness of it all.
+
+One afternoon on her return to Galvin House, Gustave opened the door.
+He had evidently been on the watch.  His kindly face was beaming with
+goodwill.
+
+"Oh, mees!" he cried.  "Mees Brent is here."
+
+"Aunt Adelaide!" cried Patricia, her heart sinking.  Then seeing the
+comical lock of indecision upon Gustave's face caused by her despairing
+exclamation she laughed.
+
+When she entered the lounge, it was to find Miss Brent sitting upright
+upon the stiffest chair in the middle of the room.  Miss Wangle and
+Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe were seated together in the extreme corner, Mrs.
+Barnes and two or three others were grouped by the window.  The
+atmosphere was tense.  Something had apparently happened.  Patricia
+learned that from the grim set of Miss Brent's mouth.
+
+"I want to talk to you, Patricia," Miss Brent announced after the
+customary greeting.
+
+"Yes, Aunt Adelaide," said Patricia, sinking into a chair with a sigh
+of resignation.
+
+"Somewhere private," said Miss Brent.
+
+"There is no privacy at Galvin House," murmured Patricia, "except in
+the bathroom."
+
+"Patricia, don't be indelicate," snapped Miss Brent.
+
+"I'm not indelicate, Aunt Adelaide, I'm merely being accurate," said
+Patricia wearily.
+
+"Cannot we go to your room?" enquired Miss Brent.
+
+"Impossible!" announced Patricia.  "It's like an oven by now.  The sun
+is on it all the afternoon.  Besides," continued Patricia, "my affairs
+are public property here.  We are quite a commune.  We have everything
+in common--except our toothbrushes," she added as an afterthought.
+
+"Well!  Let us get over there."
+
+Miss Brent rose and made for the corner farthest from Miss Wangle and
+Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe.  Patricia followed her wearily.
+
+"I've just snubbed those two women," announced Miss Brent, as she
+seated herself in a basket-chair that squeaked protestingly.
+
+"There were indications of electricity in the air," remarked Patricia
+calmly.
+
+"I want to have a serious talk with you, Patricia," said Miss Brent in
+her best it's-my-duty-cost-it-what-it-may manner.
+
+"How can anyone be serious in this heat?" protested Patricia.
+
+"I owe it to your poor dear father to----"
+
+"This debtor and creditor business is killing romance," murmured
+Patricia.
+
+"I have your welfare to consider," proceeded Miss Brent.  "I----"
+
+"Don't you think you've done enough mischief already, Aunt Adelaide?"
+enquired Patricia coolly.
+
+"Mischief!  I?" exclaimed Miss Brent in astonishment.
+
+Patricia nodded.
+
+"As your sole surviving relative it is my duty----"
+
+"Don't you think," interrupted Patricia, "that just for once you could
+neglect your duty?  Sin is wonderfully exhilarating."
+
+"Patricia!" almost shrieked Miss Brent, horror in her eyes.  "Are you
+mad?"
+
+"No," replied Patricia, "only a little weary."
+
+"You must have a tonic," announced Miss Brent.
+
+Patricia shuddered.  She still remembered her childish sufferings
+resulting from Miss Brent's interpretation and application of The
+Doctor at Home.  She was convinced that she had swallowed every remedy
+the book contained, and been rubbed with every liniment its pages
+revealed.
+
+"No, Aunt Adelaide," she said evenly.  "All I require is that you
+should cease interfering in my affairs."
+
+"How dare you!  How----"  Miss Brent paused wordless.
+
+"I am prepared to accept you as an aunt," continued Patricia, outwardly
+calm; but almost stifled by the pounding of her heart.  "It is God's
+will; but if you persist in assuming the mantle of Mrs. Grundy,
+combined with the Infallibility of the Pope, then I must protest."
+
+"Protest!" repeated Miss Brent, repeating the word as if not fully
+comprehending its meaning.
+
+"If I am able to earn my own living, then I am able to conduct my own
+love affairs."
+
+"But----" began Miss Brent.
+
+"I am sorry to appear rude, Aunt Adelaide, but it is much better to be
+frank.  I am sure you mean well; but the fact of your being my sole
+surviving relative places me at a disadvantage.  If there were two of
+you or three, you could quarrel about me, and thus preserve the
+balance.  Now let us talk about something else."
+
+For once in her life Miss Brent was nonplussed.  She regarded her niece
+as if she had been a two-tailed giraffe, or a double-headed mastodon.
+Had she been American she would have known it to be brain-storm; as it
+was she decided that Patricia was sickening for some serious illness
+that had produced a temperature.
+
+In all her experience of "the Family" never once had Miss Brent been
+openly defied in this way, and she had no reserves upon which to fall
+back.  She held personal opinion and inclination must always take
+secondary place to "the Family."  The individual must be sacrificed to
+the group, provided the individual were not herself.  Births, deaths,
+marriages, christenings, funerals, weddings, were solemn functions that
+must be regarded as involving not the principals themselves so much as
+their relatives.  Her doctrine was, although she would not have
+expressed it so philosophically, that the individual is mortal; but the
+family is immortal.
+
+That anyone lived for himself or herself never seemed to occur to Miss
+Brent.  If their actions were acceptable to the family and at the same
+time pleased the principals, then so much the better for the
+principals; if, on the other hand, the family disapproved, then the
+duty of the principals was clear.
+
+This open flouting of her prides and her prejudices was to Miss Brent a
+great blow.  It seemed to stun her.  She was at a loss how to proceed;
+all she realised was that she must save "the Family" at any cost.
+
+"Now tell me what happened when you came in," said Patricia sweetly.
+
+"I must be going," said Miss Brent solemnly.
+
+"Must you?" enquired Patricia politely; but rising lest her aunt should
+change her mind.
+
+"Now remember," said Patricia as they walked along the hall, "you've
+lost me one matrimonial fish.  If I get another nibble you must keep
+out of----"
+
+But Miss Brent had fled.
+
+"Well, that's that!" sighed Patricia as she walked slowly upstairs.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+LADY PEGGY MAKES A FRIEND
+
+One Sunday morning as Patricia was sitting in the Park watching the
+promenaders and feeling very lonely, she saw coming across the grass
+towards her Godfrey Elton accompanied by a pretty dark girl in an amber
+costume and a black hat.  She bowed her acknowledgment of Elton's
+salute, and watched the pair as they passed on in the direction of
+Marble Arch.
+
+Suddenly the girl stopped and turned.  For a moment Elton stood
+irresolute, then he also turned and they both walked in Patricia's
+direction.
+
+"Lady Peggy insisted that we should break in upon your solitude," said
+Elton, having introduced the two girls.
+
+"You will forgive me, won't you?" said Lady Peggy, "but I so wanted to
+know you.  You see Peter has the reputation of being invulnerable.
+We're all quite breathless from our fruitless endeavours to entangle
+him, and I wanted to see what you were like."
+
+"I'm afraid you'll find I'm quite common-place," said Patricia,
+smiling.  It was impossible to be annoyed with Lady Peggy.  Her
+frankness was disarming, and her curiosity that of a child.
+
+"I always say," bubbled Lady Peggy, "that there are only two men in
+London worth marrying, and they neither of them will have me, although
+I've worked most terribly hard."
+
+"Who are they?" enquired Patricia.
+
+"Oh!  Goddy's one," she said, indicating Elton with a nod, "and Peter's
+the other.  They are both prepared to be brothers to me; but they're
+not sufficiently generous to save me from dying an old maid."
+
+"I must apologise for inflicting Peggy upon you, Miss Brent," said
+Elton; "but when you get to know her you may even like her."
+
+"I'm not going to wait until I know her," said Patricia.
+
+"Bravo!" cried Lady Peggy, clapping her hands.  "That's a snub for you,
+Goddy," she said, then turning again to Patricia, "I know we're going
+to be friends, and you can afford to be generous to a defeated rival."
+
+"I must warn you against Lady Peggy," said Elton quietly.  "She's a
+most dangerous young woman."
+
+"And now, Patricia," said Lady Peggy, "I'm going to call you Patricia,
+and you must call me Peggy.  I want you to do me a very great favour."
+
+Patricia looked at the girl, rather bewildered and breathless by the
+precipitancy with which she made friends.  "I'm sure I will if I
+possibly can," she replied.
+
+"I want you to come and lunch with us," said Lady Peggy.
+
+"It's very kind of you, I shall be delighted some day," replied
+Patricia conventionally.
+
+"No, now!" said Lady Peggy.  "This very day that ever is.  I want you
+to meet Daddy.  He's such a dear.  Goddy will come, so you won't be
+lonely," she added.
+
+"I'm afraid I've got----" began Patricia.
+
+"Please don't be afraid you've got anything," pleaded Lady Peggy.  "If
+you've got an engagement throw it over.  Everybody throws over
+engagements for me."
+
+"But----" began Patricia.
+
+"Oh, please don't be tiresome," said Lady Peggy, screwing up her
+eyebrows.  "I shall have all I can do to persuade Goddy to come, and
+it's so exhausting."
+
+"I will come with pleasure," said Elton, "if only to protect Miss Brent
+from your overwhelming friendliness."
+
+"Oh, you odious creature!" cried Lady Peggy, then turning to Patricia
+she added with mock tragedy in her voice, "Oh! the love I've languished
+on that man, the gladness of the eyes I have turned upon him, the
+pressures of the hand I've been willing to bestow on him, and this is
+how he treats me."  Then with a sudden change she added, "But you will
+come, won't you?  I do so want you to meet Daddy."
+
+"If the truth must be told," said Elton, "Peggy merely wants to be able
+to exploit you, as everybody is wanting to know about you and what you
+are like.  Now she will be a celebrity, and able to describe you in
+detail to all her many men friends and to her women enemies."
+
+Lady Peggy deliberately turned her back upon Elton.
+
+"Now we are going to have another little walk and then we'll go and get
+our nosebags on," she announced.  "No, you're not going to walk between
+us"--this to Elton--"I want to be next to Patricia," she announced.
+
+Patricia felt bewildered by the suddenness with which Lady Peggy had
+descended upon her.  She scarcely listened to the flow of small talk
+she kept up.  She was conscious that Elton's hand was constantly at the
+salute, and that Lady Peggy seemed to be indulging in a series of
+continuous bows.
+
+"Oh! do let's get away somewhere," cried Lady Peggy at length.  "My
+neck aches, and I feel my mouth will set in a silly grin.  Why on earth
+do we know so many people, Goddy?  Do you know," she added
+mischievously, "I'd love to have a big megaphone and stand on a chair
+and cry out who you are.  Then everybody would flock round, because
+they all want to know who it is that has captured Peter the Hermit, as
+we call him."  She looked at Patricia appraisingly.  "I think I can
+understand now," she said.
+
+"Understand what?" said Patricia.
+
+"What it is in you that attracts Peter."
+
+Patricia gasped.  "Really," she began.
+
+"Yes, we girls have all been trying to make love to Peter and fuss over
+him, whereas you would rather snub him, and that's very good for Peter.
+It's just the sort of thing that would attract him."  Then with another
+sudden change she turned to Elton and said, "Goddy, in future I'm going
+to snub you, then perhaps you'll love me."
+
+Patricia laughed outright.  She felt strongly drawn to this
+inconsequent child-girl.  She found herself wondering what would be the
+impression she would create upon the Galvin House coterie, who would
+find all their social and moral virtues inverted by such directness of
+speech.  She could see Miss Wangle's internal struggle, disapproval of
+Lady Peggy's personality mingling with respect for her rank.
+
+"Oh, there's Tan!" Lady Peggy broke in upon Patricia's thoughts "Goddy,
+call to her, shout, wave your hat.  Haven't you got a whistle?"
+
+But Lady Tanagra had seen the party, and was coming towards them
+accompanied by Mr. Triggs.
+
+Lady Peggy danced towards Lady Tanagra.  "Oh, Tan, I've found her!" she
+cried, nodding to Mr. Triggs, whom she appeared to know.
+
+"Found whom?" enquired Lady Tanagra.
+
+"Patricia.  The captor of St. Anthony, and we're going to be friends,
+and she's coming to lunch with me to meet Daddy, and Goddy's coming
+too, so don't you dare to carry him off.  Oh, Mr. Triggs! isn't it a
+lovely day," she cried, turning to Mr. Triggs, who, hat in hand, was
+mopping his brow.
+
+"Beautiful, me dear, beautiful," he exclaimed, beaming upon her and
+turning to shake hands with Patricia.  "Well, me dear, how goes it?" he
+enquired.  Then looking at her keenly he added, "Why, you're looking
+much better."
+
+Patricia smiled, conscious that the improvement in her looks was not a
+little due to Lady Peggy and her bright chatter.
+
+"You've become such a gad-about, Mr. Triggs, that you forget poor me,"
+she said.
+
+"Oh no, he doesn't!" broke in Lady Peggy, "he's always talking about
+you.  Whenever I try to make love to him he always drags you in.  I've
+really come to hate you, Patricia, because you seem to come between me
+and all my love affairs.  Oh!  I wish we could find Peter," cried Lady
+Peggy suddenly, "that would complete the party."
+
+Patricia hoped fervently that they would not come across Bowen.  She
+saw that it would make the situation extremely awkward.
+
+"And now we must dash off for lunch," cried Lady Peggy, "or we shall be
+late and Daddy will be cross."  She shook hands with Mr. Triggs, blew a
+kiss at Lady Tanagra and, before Patricia knew it, she was walking with
+Lady Peggy and Elton in the direction of Curzon Street.
+
+Patricia was in some awe of meeting the Duke of Gayton.  Hitherto she
+had encountered only the smaller political fry, friends and
+acquaintances of Mr. Bonsor, who had always treated her as a secretary.
+The Duke had been in the first Coalition Ministry, but had been forced
+to retire on account of a serious illness.
+
+"Look whom I've caught!" cried Lady Peggy as she bubbled into the
+dining-room, where some twelve or fourteen guests were in process of
+seating themselves at the table.  "Look whom I've caught!  Daddy," she
+addressed herself to a small clean-shaven man, with beetling eyebrows
+and a broad, intellectual head.  "It's the captor of Peter the Hermit."
+
+The Duke smiled and shook hands with Patricia.
+
+"You must come and sit by me," he said in particularly sweet and
+well-modulated voice, which seemed to give the lie to the somewhat
+stern and searching appearance of his eyes.  "Peter is a great friend
+of mine."
+
+Patricia was conscious of flushed cheeks as she took her seat next to
+the Duke.  Later she discovered that these Sunday luncheons were always
+strictly informal, no order of precedence being observed.  Young and
+old were invited, grave and gay.  The talk was sometimes frivolous,
+sometimes serious.  Sunday was, in the Duke's eyes, a day of rest, and
+conversation must follow the path of least resistance.
+
+Whilst the other guests were seating themselves, Patricia looked round
+the table with interest.  She recognised a well-known Cabinet Minister
+and a bishop.  Next to her on the other side was a man with hungry,
+searching eyes, whose fair hair was cropped so closely to his head as
+to be almost invisible.  Later she learned that he was a Serbian
+patriot, who had prepared a wonderful map of New Serbia, which he
+always carried with him.  Elton had described it as "the map that
+passeth all understanding."
+
+It embraced Bulgaria, Roumania, Transylvania, Montenegro, Greece,
+Albania, Bessarabia, and portions of other countries.
+
+"It's a sort of game," Lady Peggy explained later.  "If you can escape
+without his having produced his map, then you've won," she added.
+
+At first the Duke devoted himself to Patricia, obviously with the
+object of placing her at her ease.  She was fascinated by his voice.
+He had the reputation of being a brilliant talker; but Patricia decided
+that even if he had possessed the most commonplace ideas, he would have
+invested them with a peculiar interest on account of the whimsical
+tones in which he expressed them.  He was a man of remarkable dignity
+of bearing, and Patricia decided that she would be able to feel very
+much afraid of him.
+
+In answer to a question Patricia explained that she had only met Lady
+Peggy that morning.
+
+"And what do you think of Peggy's whirlwind methods?" asked the Duke
+with a smile.
+
+"I think they are quite irresistible," replied Patricia.
+
+"She makes friends quicker than anyone I ever met and keeps them
+longer," said the Duke.
+
+Presently the conversation turned on the question of the
+re-afforestation of Great Britain, springing out of a remark made by
+the Cabinet Minister to the Duke.  Soon the two, aided by a number of
+other guests, were deep in the intricacies of politics.  During a lull
+in the conversation the Duke turned to Patricia.
+
+"I am afraid this is all very dull for you, Miss Brent," he remarked
+pleasantly.
+
+"On the contrary," said Patricia, "I am greatly interested."
+
+"Interested in politics?" questioned the Duke with a tinge of surprise
+in his voice.
+
+Gradually Patricia found herself drawn into the conversation.  For the
+first time in her life she found her study of Blue Books and her
+knowledge of statistics of advantage and use.  The Cabinet Minister
+leaned forward with interest.  The other guests had ceased their local
+conversation to listen to what it was that was so clearly interesting
+their host and the Cabinet Minister.  In Patricia's remarks there was
+the freshness of unconvention.  The old political war-horses saw how
+things appeared to an intelligent contemporary who was not trammelled
+by tradition and parliamentary procedure.
+
+Suddenly Patricia became aware that she had monopolised the
+conversation and that everyone was listening to her.  She flushed and
+stopped.
+
+"Please go on," said the Cabinet Minister; "don't stop, it's most
+interesting."
+
+But Patricia had become self-conscious.  However, the Duke with great
+tact picked up the thread, and soon the conversation became general.
+
+As they rose from the table the Duke whispered to Patricia, "Don't
+hurry away, please, I want to have a chat with you after the others
+have gone."
+
+As they went to the drawing-room, Lady Peggy came up to Patricia and
+linking her arm in hers, said:
+
+"I'm dreadfully afraid of you now, Patricia.  Why everybody was
+positively drinking in your words.  Wherever did you learn so much?"
+
+"You cannot be secretary to a rising politician," said Patricia with a
+smile, "without learning a lot of statistics.  I have to read up all
+sorts of things about pigs and babies and beet-root and street-noises
+and all sorts of objectionable things."
+
+"What do you think of her, Goddy?" cried Lady Peggy to Elton as he
+joined them.
+
+"I'm afraid she has made me feel very ignorant," replied Elton.  "Just
+as you, Peggy, always make me feel very wise."
+
+In the drawing-room the Serbian attached himself to Patricia and
+produced his "map of obliteration," as the Duke had once called it,
+explaining to her at great length how nearly all the towns and cities
+in Europe were for the most part populated by Serbs.
+
+It was obvious to her, from the respect with which she was treated,
+that her remarks at luncheon had made a great impression.
+
+When most of the other guests had departed, the Duke walked over to
+her, and dismissing Peggy, entered into a long conversation on
+political and parliamentary matters.  He was finally interrupted by
+Lady Peggy.
+
+"Look here, Daddy, if you steal my friends I shall----" she paused,
+then turning to Elton she said, "What shall I do, Goddy?"
+
+"Well, you might marry and leave him," suggested Elton helpfully.
+
+"That's it.  I will marry and leave you all alone, Daddy."
+
+"Cannot we agree to share Miss Brent?" suggested the Duke, smiling at
+Patricia.
+
+"Isn't he a dear?" enquired Lady Peggy of Patricia.  "When other men
+propose to me, and quite a lot have," she added with almost childish
+simplicity, "I always mentally compare them with Daddy, and then of
+course I know I don't want them."
+
+"That is my one reason, Peggy, for not proposing," said Elton.  "I
+could never enter the lists with the Duke."
+
+"You're a pair of ridiculous children," laughed the Duke.
+
+In response to a murmur from Patricia that she must be going, Lady
+Peggy insisted that she should first come upstairs and see her den.
+
+The "den" was a room of orderly disorder, which seemed to possess the
+freshness and charm of its owner.  Lady Peggy looked at Patricia, a new
+respect in her eyes.
+
+"You must be frightfully clever," she said with accustomed seriousness.
+"I wish I were like that.  You see I should be more of a companion to
+Daddy if I were."
+
+"I think you are an ideal companion for him you are," said Patricia.
+
+"Oh! he's so wonderful," said Lady Peggy dreamily.  "You know I'm not
+always such a fool I appear," she added quite seriously, "and I do
+sometimes think of other things than frills and flounces and
+chocolates."  Then with a sudden change of mood she cried, "Wasn't it
+clever of me capturing you to-day?  As soon as you're alone Daddy will
+tell me what he thinks of you, and I shall feel so self-important."
+
+As Patricia looked about the room, charmed with its dainty freshness,
+her eyes lighted upon a large metal tea-tray.  Lady Peggy following her
+gaze cried:
+
+"Oh, the magic carpet!"
+
+"The what?" enquired Patricia.
+
+"That's the magic carpet.  Come, I'll show you," and seizing it she
+preceded Patricia to the top of the stairs.  "Now sit on it," she
+cried, "and toboggan down.  It's priceless."
+
+"But I couldn't."
+
+"Yes you could.  Everybody does," cried Lady Peggy.
+
+Not quite knowing what she was doing Patricia found herself forced down
+upon the tea-tray, and the next thing she knew was she was speeding
+down the stairs at a terrific rate.
+
+Just as she arrived in the hall with flushed cheeks and a flurry of
+skirts, the door of the library opened and the Duke and Elton came out.
+
+Patricia gathered herself together, and with flaming cheeks and
+downcast eyes stood like a child expecting rebuke, instead of which the
+Duke merely smiled.  Turning to Elton he remarked:
+
+"So Miss Brent has received her birth certificate."
+
+As he spoke the butler with sedate decorum picked up the tray and
+carried it into his pantry as if it were the most ordinary thing in the
+world for guests to toboggan down the front staircase.
+
+"To ride on Peggy's 'magic carpet,' as she calls it," said the Duke,
+"is to be admitted to the household as a friend.  Come again soon," he
+added as he shook hands in parting.  "Any Sunday at lunch you are
+always sure to catch us.  We never give special invitations to the
+friends we want, do we, Peggy? and I want to have some more talks with
+you."
+
+As Patricia and Elton walked towards the Park he explained that Lady
+Peggy's tea-tray had figured in many little comedies.  Bishops, Cabinet
+Ministers, great generals and admirals had all descended the stairs in
+the way Patricia had.
+
+"In fact," he added, "when the Duke was in the Cabinet, it was the
+youngest and brightest collection of Ministers in the history of the
+country.  Every one of them was devoted to Peggy, and I think they
+would have made war or peace at her command."
+
+When Patricia arrived at Galvin House, she was conscious of the world
+having changed since the morning.  All her gloom had been dispelled,
+the drawn look had passed from her face, and she felt that a heavy
+weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+THE AIR RAID
+
+"Miss Brent, please get up.  There's an air raid."
+
+Mechanically Patricia sat up in bed and listened.  Outside a
+police-whistle was droning its raucous warning; within there was the
+sound of frightened whispers and the noise of the opening and shutting
+of doors.  Suddenly there was a shriek, followed by a low murmur of
+several voices.  The sound of the police-whistle continued, gradually
+dying away in the distance, and the noises within the house ceased.
+
+Patricia strained her ears to catch the first sound of the defensive
+guns.  She had no intention of getting up for a false alarm.  For some
+minutes there was silence, then came a slight murmur, half sob, half
+sigh, as if London were breathing heavily in her sleep, another
+followed, then half a dozen in quick succession growing louder with
+every report.  Suddenly came the scream of a "whiz-bang" and the
+thunder of a large gun.  Soon the orchestra was in full swing.
+
+Still Patricia listened.  She was fascinated.  Why did guns sound
+exactly as if large plank were being dropped?  Why did the report seem
+as if something were bouncing?  Suddenly a terrific report, a sound as
+if a giant plank had been dropped and had "bounced."  A neighbouring
+gun had given tongue, another followed.
+
+She jumped out of bed and proceeded to pull on her stockings.  There
+was a gentle tapping at her door, not the peremptory summons that had
+awakened her and which, by the voice that had accompanied it, she
+recognised as that of Mrs. Craske-Morton.
+
+"What is it?" she called out.
+
+"It's me, mees."  Patricia could scarcely recognise in the terrified
+accents the voice of Gustave.  "It's a raid.  Oh! mees, please come
+down."
+
+"All right, Gustave.  I shall be down in a minute," replied Patricia,
+and she heard a flurry of retreating footsteps.  Gustave was descending
+to safety.  There was about him nothing of the Roman sentry.
+
+Patricia proceeded with her toilette, hastened, in spite of herself, by
+a tremendous crash which she recognised as a bomb.
+
+At Galvin House "Raid Instructions" had been posted in each room.
+Guests were instructed to hasten with all possible speed downstairs to
+the basement-kitchen, where tea and coffee would be served and, if
+necessary, bandages and first-aid applied.  Miss Sikkum had made a
+superficial study of Red Cross work from a shilling manual but as,
+according to her own confession, she fainted at the sight of blood, no
+very great reliance was placed in her ministrations.
+
+As Patricia entered the kitchen her first inclination was to laugh at
+the amazing variety, not only of toilettes, but of expressions that met
+her eyes.  Self-confident in the knowledge that she was fully dressed,
+she looked about her with interest.
+
+"Oh, here you are, Miss Brent!" exclaimed Mrs. Craske-Morton, who was
+busily engaged in preparing the tea and coffee of the "Raid
+Instructions."  "Gustave would insist on going up to call you a second
+time.  We were----"  Mrs. Craske-Morton broke off her sentence and
+dashed for the gas-stove, where the milk was boiling over.
+
+"Oh, mees!"  Patricia turned to Gustave.  She bit her lip fiercely to
+restrain the laugh that bubbled up at the sight of the major-domo of
+Galvin House.
+
+Above a pair of black trousers, tucked in the tops of unlaced boots,
+and from which the braces flapped aimlessly, was visible the upper part
+of a red flannel night-shirt.  The remainder was bestowed beneath the
+upper part of the trousers, giving to his figure a curiously knobbly
+appearance.  His face was leaden-coloured and his upstanding hair more
+erect than ever, whilst in his eyes was Fear.
+
+He was trembling in every limb, and his jaw shook as he uttered his
+expression of relief at the sight of Patricia.  She smiled at him, then
+suddenly remembering that, in spite of his terror, he had voluntarily
+gone up to the top of the house to call her, she felt something
+strangely uncomfortable at the back of her throat.
+
+"Come along, Gustave!" she cried brightly.  "Let us help get the tea.
+I'm so thirsty."
+
+From that moment Gustave appeared to take himself in hand, and save for
+a violent start, at the more vigorous reports, seemed to have overcome
+his terror.
+
+As Patricia proceeded to assist Mrs. Craske-Morton, a veritable heroine
+in a pink flannel wrapper, she took stock of her fellows.  Miss Wangle
+was engaged in prayer and tears, her wig was awry, her face drawn and
+yellow and her clothes the garb of advanced maidenhood.  On her feet
+were bed-socks, half thrust into felt slippers.  From beneath a black
+quilted dressing-gown peeped with virtuous pride the longcloth of a
+nightdress of Victorian severity.
+
+Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe was in curl-papers and a faded blue kimono that
+allowed no suggestion to escape of the form beneath.  Miss Sikkum had
+seized a grey raincoat, above which a forest of curl papers looked
+strangely out of place.  Her fingers moved restlessly.  The two top
+buttons of the raincoat were missing, displaying a wealth of blue
+ribbon and openwork that none had suspected in her.  The lateness at
+which the ribbon and openwork began gave an interesting demonstration
+in feminine bone structure.
+
+Mr. Sefton was splendid in a purple dressing-gown with orange cord and
+tassels, and red and white striped pyjamas beneath.  Mr. Sefton had
+chosen his raid-costume with elaborate care; but the suddenness of the
+alarm had not allowed of the arrangement of his hair, most of which
+hung down behind in a sandy cascade.  His manner was the forced heroic.
+He was smoking a cigarette with a too obvious nonchalance to deceive.
+The heroes of Mr. Sefton's imagination always lit cigarettes when
+facing death.  They were of the type that seizes a revolver when the
+ship is sinking and, with one foot placed negligently upon the capstan
+(Mr. Sefton had not the most remote idea of what a capstan was like)
+shouted, "Women and children first."
+
+He walked about the kitchen with what he meant to be a smile upon his
+pale lips.  The cigarette he found a nuisance.  If he held it between
+his lips the smoke got in his eyes and made them stream with water; if,
+on the other hand, he held it between his fingers, it emphasized the
+shaking of his hand.  He compromised by letting it go out between his
+lips, arguing that the effect was the same.
+
+Mr. Bolton had donned his fez and velvet smoking-jacket above creased
+white pyjama trousers that refused to meet the tops of his felt
+slippers.  Mr. Bolton continued to make "jokes," for the same reason
+that Mr. Sefton smoked a cigarette.
+
+Mr. Cordal was negative in a big ulster with a hem of nightshirt
+beneath, leaving about eight inches of fleshless shin before his carpet
+slippers with the fur-tops were reached.  He sat gazing with unseeing
+eyes at the cook huddled up opposite, moaning as she held her heart
+with a fat, dirty hand.
+
+Mrs. Barnes, the victim of indecision, had leapt straight out of bed,
+gathered her clothes in her arms and had flown to safety.  She walked
+about the kitchen aimlessly, dropping and retrieving various garments,
+which she stuffed back again into the bundle she carried under her arm.
+
+Mrs. Craske-Morton was practical and courageous.  Her one thought was
+to prepare the promised refreshments.  Her staff, with the exception of
+Gustave, was useless, and she was grateful to Patricia for her
+assistance.
+
+Outside pandemonium was raging, the noise of the barrage was
+diabolical, the "bouncing" of the heavy guns, the screams of the
+"whiz-bangs," the cackle of machine-guns from aeroplanes overhead; all
+seemed to tell of death and chaos.
+
+Suddenly the puny sound of guns was drowned in one gigantic uproar.
+For a moment the place was plunged in darkness, then the electric light
+shuddered into being again.  The glass flew from the windows, the house
+rocked as if uncertain whether or no it should collapse.  Miss Wangle
+slipped on to her knees, her wig slipped on to her left ear.
+
+"Oh, my God!" screamed the cook, as if to ensure exclusive rights to
+the Deity's attention.
+
+Jenny, the housemaid, entirely unconscious that her nightdress was her
+sole garment, threw herself flat on her face.  Mrs. Craske-Morton, who
+was pouring out tea, let the teapot slip from her hand, smashing the
+cup and pouring the contents on to the table.  Gustave's knees refused
+their office and he sank down, grasping with both hands the edge of the
+table.  Mrs. Barnes dropped her clothes without troubling to retrieve
+them.
+
+Suddenly there was a terrifying scream outside, then a motor-car drew
+up and the sound of men's voices was heard.
+
+Still the guns thundered.  Patricia felt herself trembling.  For a
+moment a rush of blood seemed to suffocate her, then she found herself
+gazing at Miss Wangle, wondering whether she were praying to God or to
+the bishop.  She laughed in a voice unrecognisable to herself.  She
+looked about the kitchen.  Mr. Sefton had sunk down upon a chair, the
+cigarette still attached to his bloodless lower lip, his arms hanging
+limply down beside him.  Mr. Cordal was looking about him as if dazed,
+whilst Mr. Bolton was gazing at the glassless window-frames, as if
+expecting some apparition to appear.
+
+"It's a bomb next door," gasped Mrs. Craske-Morton, then remembering
+her responsibilities, she caught Patricia's eye.  There was appeal in
+her glance.
+
+"Come along, Gustave," cried Patricia in a voice that she still found
+it difficult to recognise as her own.
+
+Gustave, still on his knees, looked round and up at her with the eyes
+of a dumb animal that knows it is about to be tortured.
+
+"Gustave, get up and help with the tea," said Patricia.
+
+A look of wonder crept into Gustave's eyes at the unaccustomed tone of
+Patricia's voice.  Slowly he dragged himself up, as if testing the
+capacity of each knee to support the weight of his body.
+
+"There's brandy there," said Mrs. Craske-Morton, pointing to a
+spirit-case she had brought down with her.  "Here's the key."
+
+Patricia took the key from her trembling hand, noting that her own was
+shaking violently.
+
+"Mrs. Morton," she whispered, "you are splendid."
+
+Mrs. Morton smiled wanly, and Patricia felt that in that moment she had
+got to know the woman beneath the boarding-house keeper.
+
+"Shall we put it in their tea?" enquired Patricia, holding the decanter
+of brandy.
+
+Mrs. Craske-Morton nodded.
+
+"Now, Gustave!" cried Patricia, "make everybody drink tea."
+
+Gustave looked at his own hands, and then down at his knees as if in
+doubt as to whether he possessed the power of making them obey his
+wishes.
+
+Miss Wangle was still on her knees, the cook was appealing to the
+Almighty with tiresome reiteration.  Jenny had developed hysterics, and
+was seated on the ground drumming with her heels upon the floor, Miss
+Sikkum gazing at her as if she had been some phenomenon from another
+world.  Mr. Bolton had valiantly pulled himself together and was
+endeavouring to persuade Mrs. Barnes to accept the various garments
+that he was picking up from the floor.  Her only acknowledgment of his
+gallantry was to gaze at him with dull, unseeing eyes, and to wag her
+head from side to side as if in repudiation of the ownership of what he
+was striving to get her to take from him.
+
+Mr. Sefton, valiant to the end, was with trembling fingers endeavouring
+to extract a cigarette from his case, apparently unconscious that one
+was still attached to his lip.  Mrs. Craske-Morton, Patricia and
+Gustave set themselves to work to pour tea and brandy down the throats
+of the others.  Mr. Sefton took his mechanically and put it to his
+lips, oblivious of the cigarette that still dangled there.  Finding an
+obstruction he put up his hand and pulled the cigarette away and with
+it a portion of the skin of his lip.  For the rest of the evening he
+was dabbing his mouth with his pocket-handkerchief.
+
+Gustave had valiantly gone to the assistance of Jenny, and was
+endeavouring to pour tea through her closed teeth, with the result that
+it streamed down the neck of her nightdress.  The effect was the same,
+however.  As she felt the hot fluid on her chest she screamed, stopped
+drumming with her heels and looked about the kitchen.
+
+"You've scalded me, you beast!" she cried, whereat Gustave, who was
+sitting on his heels, started and fell backwards, bringing Miss Sikkum
+down on top of him together with her cup of tea.
+
+Mrs. Craske-Morton was ministering to Miss Wangle and Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe.  Mr. Bolton and Mr. Cordal were both drinking neat
+brandy out of teacups.
+
+Outside the guns still thundered and screamed.
+
+Patricia went to the assistance of the cook; kneeling down she
+persuaded her to drink a cup of tea and brandy, which had the effect of
+silencing her appeals to the Almighty.
+
+For an hour the "guests" of Galvin House waited, exactly what for no
+one knew.  Then the noise of the firing began to die away in waves of
+sound.  There would be a few minutes' silence but for the distant
+rumble of guns, then suddenly a spurt of firing as if the guns were
+reluctant to forget their former anger.  Another period of silence
+would follow, then two or three isolated reports, like the snarl of
+dogs that had been dragged from their prey.  Finally quiet.
+
+For a further half-hour Galvin House waited, praying that the attack
+would not be renewed.  There were little spurts of conversation.  Mr.
+Sefton was slowly returning to the "foot on the Capstan" attitude, and
+actually had a cigarette alight.  Mr. Bolton and Mr. Cordal were
+speculating as to where the bomb had fallen.  Mrs. Craske-Morton was
+wondering if the Government would pay promptly for the damage to her
+glass.
+
+Outside there were sounds of life and movement, cars were throbbing and
+passing to and fro, and men's voices could be heard.  Suddenly there
+was a loud peal of the street-door bell.  All looked at each other in
+consternation.  Gustave looked about him as if he had lost a puppy.
+Mrs. Craske-Morton looked at Gustave.
+
+"Gustave!" said Patricia, surprised at her own calm.
+
+Gustave looked at her for a moment then, remembering his duties, went
+slowly to the door, listening the while as if expecting a further
+bombardment to break out.  With the exception of Miss Wangle and the
+cook, everybody was on the qui vive of expectation.
+
+"It's the police," suggested Mrs. Craske-Morton, with conviction.
+
+"Or the ambulance," ventured Miss Sikkum in a trembling voice.
+"They're collecting the dead," she added optimistically.
+
+All eyes were riveted upon the kitchen door.  Steps were heard
+descending the stairs.  A moment later the door was thrown open and
+Gustave in a voice strangely unlike his own announced:
+
+"'Ees Lordship, madame."
+
+Bowen entered the kitchen and cast a swift look about him.  A light of
+relief passed over his face as he saw Patricia.  Some instinct that she
+could neither explain nor control caused her to go over to him, and
+before she knew what was taking place both her hands were in his.
+
+"Thank God!" he breathed.  "I was afraid it was this house.  I heard a
+bomb had dropped here.  Oh, my dear!  I've been in hell!"
+
+There was something in his voice that thrilled her as she had never
+been thrilled before.  She looked up at him smiling, then suddenly with
+a great content she remembered that she had dressed herself with care.
+
+Bowen looked about him, and seeing Mrs. Craske-Morton, went over and
+shook hands.
+
+"She's a regular heroine, Peter," said Patricia, unconscious that she
+had used his name.  "She's been so splendid."
+
+Mrs. Craske-Morton smiled at Patricia, again her human smile.
+
+"Oh! go away, make him go away!"  It was Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe who
+spoke.  Her words had an electrifying effect upon everyone.  Miss
+Wangle sat up and made feverish endeavours to straighten her wig.
+Jenny, the housemaid, looked round for cover that was nowhere
+available.  The cook became aware of her lack of clothing.  Miss Sikkum
+strove to minimise the exhibition of feminine bone-structure.  Mrs.
+Barnes made a dive for Mr. Bolton, who was still holding various of her
+garments that he had retrieved.  These she seized from him as if he had
+been a pickpocket, and thrust them under her arm.
+
+"Oh, please go away!" moaned the cook.
+
+"Come upstairs," said Patricia as she led the way out of the kitchen,
+to the relief of those whose reawakened modesty saw in Bowen's presence
+an outrage to decorum.  Switching on the light in the lounge, Patricia
+threw herself into a chair.  She was beginning to feel the reaction.
+
+"Why did you come?" she asked.
+
+"I heard that a bomb had fallen in this street and---well, I had to
+come.  I was never in such a funk in all my life."
+
+"How did you get round here; did you bring the car?"
+
+"No, I couldn't get the car out, I walked it," said Bowen briefly.
+
+"That was very sweet of you," said Patricia gratefully, looking up at
+him in a way she had never looked at him before.  "And now I think you
+must be going.  We must all go to bed again."
+
+"Yes, the 'All Clear' will sound soon, I think," replied Bowen.
+
+They moved out into the hall.  For a moment they stood looking at each
+other, then Bowen took both her hands in his.  "I am so glad,
+Patricia," he said, gazing into her eyes, then suddenly he bent down
+and kissed her full on the lips.
+
+Dropping her hands and without another word he picked up his cap and
+let himself out, leaving Patricia standing gazing in front of her.  For
+a moment she stood, then turning as one in a dream, walked slowly
+upstairs to her room.
+
+"I wonder why I let him do that?" she murmured as she stood in front of
+the mirror unpinning her hair.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+GALVIN HOUSE AFTER THE RAID
+
+The next day and for many days Galvin House abandoned itself to the
+raid.  The air was full of rumours of the appalling casualties
+resulting from the bomb that had been dropped in the next street.  No
+one knew anything, everyone had heard something.  The horrors confided
+to each other by the residents at Galvin House would have kept the
+Grand Guignol in realism for a generation.
+
+Silent herself, Patricia watched with interest the ferment around her.
+With the exception of Mrs. Craske-Morton, all seemed to desire most of
+all to emphasize their own attitude of splendid intellectual calm
+during the raid.  They spoke scornfully of acquaintances who had flown
+from London because of the danger from bomb-dropping Gothas, they
+derided the Thames Valley aliens, they talked heroically and
+patriotically about "standing their bit of bombing."  In short Galvin
+House had become a harbour of heroism.
+
+Mrs. Craske-Morton, who had shown a calmness and courage that none of
+the others seemed to recognise, had nothing to say except about her
+broken glass; on this subject, however, she was eloquent.  Miss Wangle
+managed to convey to those who would listen that her own safety, and in
+fact that of Galvin House, was directly due to the intercession of the
+bishop, who when alive was particularly noted for the power and
+sustained eloquence of his prayers.
+
+Mr. Bolton was frankly sceptical.  If the august prelate was out to
+save Galvin House, he suggested, it wasn't quite cricket to let them
+drop a bomb in the next street.
+
+Everyone was extremely critical of everyone else.  Mr. Bolton said
+things about Mrs. Barnes and her clothes that made Miss Sikkum blush,
+particularly about the nose, where, with her, emotion always first
+manifested itself.  Mr. Sefton had permanently returned to the "women
+and children first" phase and, as two cigarettes were missing from his
+case, he was convinced that he had acquitted himself with that air of
+reckless bravado that endeared a man to women.  He talked pityingly and
+tolerantly of Gustave's obvious terror.
+
+Mr. Bolton saw in the adventure material for jokes for months to come.
+He laboured at the subject with such misguided industry that Patricia
+felt she almost hated him.  Some of his allusions, particularly to the
+state of sartorial indecision in which the maids had sought cover, were
+"not quite nice," as Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe expressed it to Mrs.
+Hamilton, who returned from a visit the day following.
+
+At breakfast everyone had talked, and in consequence everyone who
+worked was late for work; the general opinion being, what was the use
+of a raid unless you could be late for work?  Punctuality on such
+occasions being regarded as the waste of an opportunity, and a direct
+rebuke to Providence who had placed it there.
+
+Patricia did not take part in the general babel, beyond pointing out,
+when Gustave was coming under discussion, that it was he who had gone
+to the top of the house to call her.  She looked meaningly at Mr.
+Bolton and Mr. Sefton, who had the grace to appear a little ashamed of
+themselves.
+
+When Patricia returned in the evening, she found Lady Tanagra awaiting
+her in the lounge, literally bombarded with different accounts of what
+had happened--all narrated in the best "eye-witness" manner of the
+alarmist press.  Following the precept of Charles Lamb, Galvin House
+had apparently striven to correct the bad impression made through
+lateness in beginning work by leaving early.
+
+It was obvious that Lady Tanagra had made herself extremely popular.
+Everyone was striving to gain her ear for his or her story of personal
+experiences.
+
+"Ah, here you are!" cried Lady Tanagra as Patricia entered.  "I hear
+you behaved like a heroine last night."
+
+Mrs. Craske-Morton nodded her head with conviction.
+
+"Mrs. Morton was the real heroine," said Patricia.  "She was splendid!"
+
+Mrs. Craske-Morton flushed.  To be praised before so distinguished a
+caller was almost embarrassing, especially as no one had felt it
+necessary to comment upon her share in the evening's excitement.
+
+"Come up with me while I take off my things," said Patricia, as she
+moved towards the door.  She saw that any private talk between herself
+and Lady Tanagra would be impossible in the lounge with Galvin House in
+its present state of ferment.
+
+In Patricia's room Lady Tanagra subsided into a chair with a sigh.  "I
+feel as if I were a celebrity arriving at New York," she laughed.
+
+"They're rather excited," smiled Patricia, "but then we live such a
+humdrum life here--the expression is Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe's--and much
+should be forgiven them.  A book could be written on the boarding-house
+mind, I think.  It moves in a vicious circle.  If someone would only
+break out and give the poor dears something to talk about."
+
+"Didn't you do that?" enquired Lady Tanagra slily.
+
+Patricia smiled wearily.  "I take second place now to the raid.  Think
+of living here for the next few weeks.  They will think raid, read
+raid, talk raid and dream raid."  She shuddered.  "Thank heavens I'm
+off to-morrow."
+
+"Off to-morrow?" Lady Tanagra raised her eyes in interrogation.
+
+"Yes, to Eastbourne for a fortnight's holiday as provided for in the
+arrangement existing between one Patricia Brent and Arthur Bonsor,
+Esquire, M.P.  It's part of the wages of the sin of secretaryship."
+Patricia sighed.
+
+"I hope you'll enjoy----"
+
+"Please don't be conventional," interrupted Patricia.  "I shall not
+enjoy it in the least.  Within twenty-four hours I shall long to be
+back again.  I shall get up in the morning and I shall go to bed at
+night.  In between I shall walk a bit, read a bit, get my nose red
+(thank heavens it doesn't peel) and become bored to extinction.  One
+thing I won't do, that is wear openwork frocks.  The sun shall not
+print cheap insertion kisses upon Patricia Brent."
+
+"You're quite sure that it is a holiday," Lady Tanagra looked up
+quizzically at Patricia as she stood gazing out of the window.
+
+"A holiday!" repeated Patricia, looking round.
+
+"It sounded just a little depressing," said Lady Tanagra.
+
+"It will be exactly what it sounds," Patricia retorted; "only
+depressing is not quite the right word, it's too polite.  You don't
+know what it is to be lonely, Tanagra, and live at Galvin House, and
+try to haul or push a politician into a rising posture.  It reminds me
+of Carlyle on the Dutch."  There was a note of fierce protest in her
+voice.  "You have all the things that I want, and I wonder I don't
+scratch your face and tear your hair out.  We are all primitive in our
+instincts really."  Then she laughed.  "Well!  I had to cry out to
+someone, and I shall feel better.  It's rather a beastly world for some
+of us, you know; but I suppose I ought to be spanked for being
+ungrateful."
+
+"Do you know why I've come?" enquired Lady Tanagra, thinking it wise to
+change the subject.
+
+Patricia shook her head.  "A more conceited person might have suggested
+that it was to see me," she said demurely.
+
+"To apologise for Peter," said Lady Tanagra.  "He disobeyed orders and
+I am very angry with him."
+
+Patricia flushed at the memory of their good-night.  For a few seconds
+she stood silent, looking out of the window.
+
+"I think it was rather sweet of him," she said without looking round.
+
+Lady Tanagra smiled slightly.  "Then I may forgive him, you think?" she
+enquired.
+
+Patricia turned and looked at her.  Lady Tanagra met the gaze
+innocently.
+
+"He wanted to write to you and send some flowers and chocolates; but I
+absolutely forbade it.  We almost had our first quarrel," she added
+mendaciously.
+
+For the space of a second Patricia hated Lady Tanagra.  She would have
+liked to turn and rend her for interfering in a matter that could not
+possibly be regarded as any concern of hers.  The feeling, however, was
+only momentary and, when Lady Tanagra rose to go, Patricia was as
+cordial as ever.
+
+From Galvin House Lady Tanagra drove to the Quadrant.
+
+"Peter!" she cried as she entered the room and threw herself into an
+easy chair, "if ever I again endeavour to divert true love from its
+normal----"
+
+"How is she?"' interrupted Bowen.
+
+"Now you've spoiled it," cried Lady Tanagra, "and it was----"
+
+"Spoiled what?" demanded Bowen.
+
+"My beautiful phrase about true love and its normal channel, and I have
+been saying it over to myself all the way from Galvin House."  She
+looked reproachfully at her brother.
+
+"How's Patricia?" demanded Bowen eagerly.
+
+"Fair to moderately fair, rain later, I should describe her," replied
+Lady Tanagra, helping herself to a cigarette which Bowen lighted.
+"She's going away."
+
+"Good heavens!  Where?" cried Bowen.
+
+"Eastbourne."
+
+"When?"
+
+"To-morrow."
+
+"Damn!"
+
+"My dear Peter," remarked Lady Tanagra lazily, "this primitive
+profanity ill becomes----"
+
+"Please don't rot me, Tan," he pleaded.  "I've had a rotten time
+lately."
+
+There was helpless and hopeless pain in Bowen's voice that caused Lady
+Tanagra to spring up from her chair and go over to him.
+
+"Carry on, old boy," she cried softly, as she caressed his coat-sleeve.
+"It's your only chance.  You're going to win."
+
+"I must see her!" blurted out Bowen.
+
+"If you do you'll spoil everything," announced Lady Tanagra with
+conviction.
+
+"But, last night," began Bowen and paused.
+
+"Last night, I think," said Lady Tanagra, "was a master-stroke.  She is
+touched; it's taken us forward at least a week."
+
+"But look here, Tan," said Bowen gloomily, "you told me to leave it all
+in your hands and you make me treat her rottenly, then you say----"
+
+"That you know about as much of how to make a woman like Patricia fall
+in love with you as an ostrich does of geology," said Lady Tanagra
+calmly.
+
+"But what will she think?" demanded Bowen.
+
+"At present she is thinking that Eastbourne will be a nightmare of
+loneliness."
+
+"I'll run down and see her," announced Bowen.
+
+"If you do, Peter!"  There was a note of warning in Lady Tanagra's
+voice.
+
+"All right," he conceded gloomily.  "I'll give you another week, and
+then I'll go my own way."
+
+"Peter, if you were smaller and I were bigger I think I should spank
+you," laughed Lady Tanagra.  Then with great seriousness she said, "I
+want you to marry her, and I'm going the only way to work to make her
+let you.  Do try and trust me, Peter."
+
+Bowen looked down at her with a smile, touched by the look in her eyes.
+For a moment his arm rested across her shoulders.  Then he pushed her
+towards the door.  "Clear out, Tan.  I'm not fit for a bear-pit
+to-night."
+
+The Bowens were never demonstrative with one another.
+
+For half an hour Bowen sat smoking one cigarette after another until he
+was interrupted by the entrance of Peel, who, after a comprehensive
+glance round the room, proceeded to administer here and there those
+deft touches that emphasize a patient and orderly mind.  Bowen watched
+him as he moved about on the balls of his feet.
+
+"Have you ever been to Eastbourne, Peel?" enquired Bowen presently.
+Just why he asked the question he could not have said.
+
+"Only once, my lord," replied Peel as he replaced the full ash-tray on
+the table by Bowen with a clean one.  There was a note in his voice
+implying that nothing would ever tempt him to go there again.
+
+"You don't like it?" suggested Bowen.
+
+"I dislike it intensely, my lord," replied Peel as he refolded a copy
+of _The Times_.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"It has unpleasant associations, my lord," was the reply.
+
+Bowen smiled.  After a moment's silence he continued:
+
+"Been sowing wild oats there?"
+
+"No, my lord, not exactly."
+
+"Well, if it's not too private," said Bowen, "tell me what happened.
+At the moment I'm particularly interested in the place."
+
+Peel gazed reproachfully at a copy of _The Sphere_, which had managed
+in some strange way to get its leaves dog-eared.  As he proceeded to
+smooth them out he continued:
+
+"It was when I was young, my lord.  I was engaged to be married.  I
+thought her a most excellent young woman, in every way suitable.  She
+went down to Eastbourne for a holiday."  He paused.
+
+"Well, there doesn't seem much wrong in that," said Bowen.
+
+"From Eastbourne she wrote, saying that she had changed her mind,"
+proceeded Peel.
+
+"The devil she did!" exclaimed Bowen.  "And what did you do?"
+
+"I went down to reason with her, my lord," said Peel.
+
+"Does one reason with a woman, Peel?" enquired Bowen with a smile.
+
+"I was very young then, my lord, not more than thirty-two."  Peel's
+tone was apologetic.  "I discovered that she had received an offer of
+marriage from another."
+
+"Hard luck!" murmured Bowen.
+
+"Not at all, my lord, really," said Peel philosophically.  "I
+discovered that she had re-engaged herself to a butcher, a most
+offensive fellow.  His language when I expostulated with him was
+incredibly coarse, and I am sure he used marrow for his hair."
+
+"And what did you do?" enquired Bowen.
+
+"I had taken a return ticket, my lord.  I came back to London."
+
+Bowen laughed.  "I'm afraid you couldn't have been very badly hit,
+Peel, or you would not have been able to take it quite so
+philosophically."
+
+"I have never allowed my private affairs to interfere with my
+professional duties, my lord," replied Peel unctuously.
+
+For five minutes Bowen smoked in silence.  "So you do not believe in
+marriage," he said at length.
+
+"I would not say that, my lord; but I do not think it suitable for a
+man of temperament such as myself.  I have known marriages quite
+successful where too much was not required of the contracting parties."
+
+"But don't you believe in love?" enquired Bowen.
+
+"Love, my lord, is like a disease.  If you are on the look out for it
+you catch it, if you ignore it, it does not trouble you.  I was once
+with a gentleman who was very nervous about microbes.  He would never
+eat anything that had not been cooked, and he had everything about him
+disinfected.  He even disinfected me," he added as if in proof of the
+extreme eccentricity of his late employer.
+
+"So I suppose you despise me for having fallen in love and
+contemplating marriage," said Bowen with a smile.
+
+"There are always exceptions, my lord," responded Peel tactfully.  "I
+have prepared the bath."
+
+"Peel," remarked Bowen as he rose and stretched himself, "disinfected
+or not disinfected, you are safe from the microbe of romance."
+
+"I hope so, my lord," responded Peel as he opened the door.
+
+"I wonder if history will repeat itself," murmured Bowen as he walked
+through his bedroom into the bathroom.  "I, too, hate Eastbourne."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+A RACE WITH SPINSTERHOOD
+
+Before she had been at Eastbourne twenty-four hours Patricia was
+convinced that she had made a mistake in going there.  With no claims
+upon her time, the restlessness that had developed in London increased
+until it became almost unbearable.  The hotel at which she was staying
+was little more than a glorified boarding-house, full of "the most
+jungly of jungle-people," as she expressed it to herself.  Their
+well-meant and kindly efforts to engage her in their pursuits and
+pleasures she received with apathetic negation.  At length her
+fellow-guests, seeing that she was determined not to respond to their
+overtures, left her severely alone.  The men were the last to desist.
+
+She came to dislike the pleasure-seekers about her and grew critical of
+everything she saw, the redness of the women's faces, the assumed
+youthfulness of the elderly men, the shapelessness of matrons who
+seemed to delight in bright open-work blouses and juvenile hats.  She
+remembered Elton's remark that Fashion uncovers a multitude of shins.
+The shins exposed at Eastbourne were she decided, sufficient to
+undermine one's belief in the early chapters of Genesis.
+
+At one time she would have been amused at the types around her, and
+their various conceptions of "one crowded hour of glorious life."  As
+it was, everything seemed sordid and trivial.  Why should people lose
+all sense of dignity and proportion at a set period of the year?  It
+was, she decided, almost as bad as being a hare.
+
+All she wanted was to be alone, she told herself; yet as soon as she
+had discovered some secluded spot and had settled herself down to read,
+the old restlessness attacked her, and fight against it as she might,
+she was forced back again to the haunts of men.
+
+For the first few days she watched eagerly for letters.  None came.
+She would return to the hotel several times a day, look at the
+letter-rack, then, to hide her disappointment, make a pretence of
+having returned for some other purpose.  "Why had not Bowen written?"
+she asked herself, then a moment after she strove to convince herself
+that he had forgotten, or at least that she was only an episode in his
+life.
+
+His sudden change from eagerness to indifference caused her to flush
+with humiliation; yet he had gone to Galvin House during the raid to
+assure himself of her safety.  Why had he not written after what had
+occurred?  Perhaps Aunt Adelaide was right about men after all.
+
+Patricia wrote to Lady Tanagra, Mrs. Hamilton, Lady Peggy, Mr. Triggs,
+even to Miss Sikkum.  In due course answers arrived; but in only Miss
+Sikkum's letter was there any reference to Bowen, a gush of sentiment
+about "how happy you must be, dear Miss Brent, with Lord Bowen running
+down to see you every other day.  I know!" she added with maidenly
+prescience.  Patricia laughed.
+
+Mr. Triggs committed himself to nothing more than two and three-quarter
+pages, mainly about his daughter and "A. B.," Mr. Triggs was not at his
+best as a correspondent.  Lady Tanagra ran to four pages; but as her
+handwriting was large, five lines filling a page, her letter was
+disappointing.
+
+Lady Peggy was the most productive.  In the course of twelve pages of
+spontaneity she told Patricia that the Duke and the Cabinet Minister
+had almost quarrelled about her, Patricia.  "Peter has been to lunch
+with us and Daddy has told him how lucky he is, and how wonderful you
+are.  If Peter is not very careful, I shall have you presented to me as
+a stepmother.  Wouldn't it be priceless!" she wrote.  "Oh!  What am I
+writing?"  She ended with the Duke's love, and an insistence that
+Patricia should lunch at Curzon Street the first Sunday after her
+return.
+
+Patricia found Lady Peggy's letter charming.  She was pleased to know
+that she had made a good impression and was admired--by the right
+people.  Twenty-four hours, however, found her once more thrown back
+into the trough of her own despondency.  Instinctively she began to
+count the days until this "dire compulsion of infertile days" should
+end.  She could not very well return to London and say that she was
+tired of holiday-making.  Galvin House would put its own construction
+upon her action and words, and whatever that construction might be, it
+was safe to assume that it would be an unpleasant one.
+
+There were moments when a slight uplifting of the veil enabled her to
+see herself as she must appear to others.
+
+"Patricia!" she exclaimed one morning to her reflection in a rather
+dubious mirror.  "You're a cumberer of the earth and, furthermore,
+you've got a beastly temper," and she jabbed a pin through her hat and
+partly into her head.
+
+As the days passed she found herself wondering what was the earliest
+day she could return.  If she made it the Friday night, would it arouse
+suspicion?  She decided that it would, and settled to leave Eastbourne
+on the Saturday afternoon.
+
+As the train steamed out of the station she made a grimace in the
+direction of the town, just as an inoffensive and prematurely bald
+little man opposite looked up from his paper.  He gave Patricia one
+startled look through his gold-rimmed spectacles and, for the rest of
+the journey, buried himself behind his paper, fearful lest Patricia
+should "make another face at him," as he explained to his mother that
+evening.
+
+"She's come home in a nice temper!" was Miss Wangle's diagnosis of the
+mood in which Patricia reached Galvin House.
+
+Gustave regarded her with anxious concern.
+
+The first dinner drove her almost mad.  The raid, as a topic of
+conversation, was on the wane, although Mr. Bolton worked at it nobly,
+and Patricia found herself looked upon to supply the necessary material
+for the evening's amusement.  What had she done?  Where had she been?
+Had she bathed?  Were the dresses pretty?  How many times had Bowen
+been down?  Had she met any nice people?  Was it true that the costumes
+of the women were disgraceful?
+
+At last, with a forced laugh, Patricia told them that she must have
+"notice" of such questions, and everybody had looked at her in
+surprise, until Mr. Bolton's laugh rang out, and he explained the
+parliamentary allusion.
+
+When at last, under pretence of being tired, she was able to escape to
+her room, she felt that another five minutes would have turned her
+brain.
+
+Sunday dawned, and with it the old panorama of iterations unfolded
+itself: Mr. Bolton's velvet coat and fez, Mr. Cordal's carpet slippers
+with the fur tops, Mrs. Barnes' indecision, Mr. Sefton's genial and
+romantic optimism, Miss Sikkum's sumptuary excesses; all presented
+themselves in due sequence just as they had done for--"was it
+centuries?" Patricia asked herself.  To crown all it was a roast-pork
+Sunday, and the reek of onions preparing for the seasoning filled the
+house.
+
+Patricia felt that the fates were fighting against her.  In nerving
+herself for the usual human Sunday ordeal, she had forgotten the
+vegetable menace, in other words that it was "pork Sunday."  Mr. Bolton
+was always more than usually trying on Sundays; but reinforced by
+onions he was almost unbearable.  Patricia fled.
+
+It was the Sunday before August Bank Holiday.  Patricia shuddered at
+the remembrance.  It meant that people were away.  She did not pause to
+think that her world was at home, pursuing its various paths whereby to
+cultivate an appetite worthy of the pork that was even then sizzling in
+the Galvin House kitchen under the eagle eye of the cook, who prided
+herself on her "crackling," which Galvin House crunched with noisy
+gusto.
+
+Patricia sank down upon a chair far back under the trees opposite the
+Stanhope Gate.  Here she remained in a vague way watching the people,
+yet unconscious of their presence.  From time to time some snatch of
+meaningless conversation would reach her.  "You know Betty's such a
+sport?" one man said to another.  Patricia found herself wondering what
+Betty was like and what, to the speaker's mind, constituted being a
+sport.  Was Betty pretty?  She must be, Patricia decided; no one cared
+whether or no a plain girl were a sport.  She found herself wanting to
+know Betty.  What were the lives of all these people, these shadows,
+that were moving to and fro in front of her, each intent upon something
+that seemed of vital importance?  Were they----?
+
+"I doubt if Cassandra could have looked more gloomily prophetic."
+
+She turned with a start and saw Geoffrey Elton smiling down upon her.
+
+"Did I look as bad as that?" she enquired, as he took a seat beside her.
+
+"You looked as if you were gratuitously settling the destinies of the
+world," he replied.
+
+"In a way I suppose I was," she said musingly.  "You see they all mean
+something," indicating the paraders with a nod of her head, "tragedy,
+comedy, farce, sometimes all three.  If you only stop to think about
+life, it all seems so hopeless.  I feel sometimes that I could run away
+from it all."
+
+"That in the Middle Ages would have been diagnosed as the monastic
+spirit," said Elton.  "It arose, and no doubt continues in most cases
+to arise from a sluggish liver."
+
+"How dreadful!" laughed Patricia.  "The inference is obvious."
+
+"The world's greatest achievements and greatest tragedies could no
+doubt be traced directly to rebellious livers: Waterloo and 'Hamlet'
+are instances."
+
+"Are you serious?" enquired Patricia.  She was never quite certain of
+Elton.
+
+"In a way I suppose I am," he replied.  "If I were a pathologist I
+should write a book upon _The Influence of Disease upon the Destinies
+of the World_.  The supreme monarch is the microbe.  The Germans have
+shown that they recognise this."
+
+"Ugh!"  Patricia shuddered.
+
+"Of course you have to make some personal sacrifice in the matter of
+self-respect first," continued Elton, "but after that the rest becomes
+easy."
+
+"I suppose that is what a German victory would mean," said Patricia.
+
+"Yes; we should give up lead and nickel and T.N.T., and invent germ
+distributors.  Essen would become a great centre of germ-culture,
+and----"
+
+"Oh! please let us talk about something else," cried Patricia.  "It's
+horrible!"
+
+"Well!" said Elton with a smile, "shall we continue our talk over
+lunch, if you have no engagement?"
+
+"Lady Peggy asked me----" began Patricia.
+
+"They're away in Somerset," said Elton, "so now I claim you as my
+victim.  It is your destiny to save me from my own thoughts."
+
+"And yours to save me from roast pork and apple sauce," said Patricia,
+rising.  As they walked towards Hyde Park Corner she explained the
+Galvin House cuisine.
+
+They lunched at the Ritz and, to her surprise Patricia found herself
+eating with enjoyment, a thing she had not done for weeks past.  She
+decided that it must be a revulsion of feeling after the menace of
+roast pork.  Elton was a good talker, with a large experience of life
+and a considerable fund of general information.
+
+"I should like to travel," said Patricia as she sipped her coffee in
+the lounge.
+
+"Why?"  Elton held a match to her cigarette.
+
+"Oh!  I suppose because it is enjoyable," replied Patricia; "besides,
+it educates," she added.
+
+"That is too conventional to be worthy of you," said Elton.
+
+"How?" queried Patricia.
+
+"Most of the dull people I know ascribe their dullness to lack of
+opportunities for travel.  They seem to think that a voyage round the
+world will make brilliant talkers of the toughest bores."
+
+"Am I as tedious as that?" enquired Patricia, looking up with a smile.
+
+"Your friend, Mr. Triggs, for instance," continued Elton, passing over
+Patricia's remark.  "He has not travelled, and he is always
+interesting.  Why?"
+
+"I suppose because he is Mr. Triggs," said Patricia half to herself.
+
+"Exactly," said Elton.  "If you were really yourself you would not
+be----"
+
+"So dull," broke in Patricia with a laugh.
+
+"So lonely," continued Elton, ignoring the interruption.
+
+"Why do you say that?" demanded Patricia.  "It's not exactly a
+compliment."
+
+"Intellectual loneliness may be the lot of the greatest social success."
+
+"But why do you think I am lonely?" persisted Patricia.
+
+"Let us take Mr. Triggs as an illustration.  He is direct, unversed in
+diplomacy, golden-hearted, with a great capacity for friendship and
+sentiment.  When he is hurt he shows it as plainly as a child,
+therefore we none of us hurt him."
+
+"He's a dear!" murmured Patricia half to herself.
+
+"If he were in love he would never permit pride to disguise it."
+
+Patricia glanced up at Elton: but he was engaged in examining the end
+of his cigarette.
+
+"He would credit the other person with the same sincerity as himself,"
+continued Elton.  "The biggest rogue respects an honest man, that is
+why we, who are always trying to disguise our emotions, admire Mr.
+Triggs, who would just as soon wear a red beard and false eyebrows as
+seek to convey a false impression."
+
+Patricia found herself wondering why Elton had selected this topic.
+She was conscious that it was not due to chance.
+
+"Is it worth it?"  Elton's remark, half command, half question, seemed
+to stab through her thoughts.
+
+She looked up at him, her eyes a little widened with surprise.
+
+"Is what worth what?" she enquired.
+
+"I was just wondering," said Elton, "if the Triggses are not very wise
+in eating onions and not bothering about what the world will think."
+
+"Eating onions!" cried Patricia.
+
+"My medical board is on Tuesday up North," said Elton, "and I shall
+hope to get back to France.  You see things in a truer perspective when
+you're leaving town under such conditions."
+
+Patricia was silent for some time.  Elton's remarks sometimes wanted
+thinking out.
+
+"You think we should take happiness where we can find it?" she asked.
+
+"Well!  I think we are too much inclined to render unto Cæsar the
+things which are God's," he replied gravely.
+
+"Do you appreciate that you are talking in parables?" said Patricia.
+
+"That is because I do not possess Mr. Triggs's golden gift of
+directness."
+
+Suddenly Patricia glanced at her watch.  "Why, it's five minutes to
+three!" she cried.  "I had no idea it was so late."
+
+"I promised to run round to say good-bye to Peter at three," Elton
+remarked casually, as he passed through the lounge.
+
+"Good-bye!" cried Patricia in surprise.
+
+"He is throwing up his staff appointment, and has applied to rejoin his
+regiment in France."
+
+For a moment Patricia stopped dead, then with a great effort she passed
+through the revolving door into the sunlight.  Her knees seemed
+strangely shaky, and she felt thankful when she saw the porter hail a
+taxi.  Elton handed her in and closed the door.
+
+"Galvin House?" he interrogated.
+
+"When does he go?" asked Patricia in a voice that she could not keep
+even in tone.
+
+"As soon as the War Office approves," said Elton.
+
+"Does Lady Tanagra know?" she asked.
+
+"No, Peter will not tell her until everything is settled," he replied.
+
+As the taxi sped westwards Patricia was conscious that some strange
+change had come over her.  She had the feeling that follows a long bout
+of weeping.  Peter was going away!  Suddenly everything was changed!
+Everything was explained!  She must see him!  Prevent him from going
+back to France!  He was going because of her!  He would be killed and
+it would be her fault!
+
+Arrived at Galvin House she went straight to her room.  For two hours
+she lay on her bed, her mind in a turmoil, her head feeling as if it
+were being compressed into a mould too small for it.  No matter how she
+strove to control them, her thoughts inevitably returned to the phrase,
+"Peter is going to France."
+
+Unknown to herself, she was fighting a great fight with her pride.  She
+must see him, but how?  If she telephoned it would be an unconditional
+surrender.  She could never respect herself again.  "When you are in
+love you take pleasure in trampling your pride underfoot."  The phrase
+persisted in obtruding itself.  Where had she heard it?  What was
+pride? she asked herself.  One might be very lonely with pride as one's
+sole companion.  What would Mr. Triggs say?  She could see his forehead
+corrugated with trying to understand what pride had to do with love.
+Even Elton, self-restrained, almost self-sufficient, admitted that Mr.
+Triggs was right.
+
+If she let Peter go?  A year hence, a month perhaps, she might have
+lost him.  Of what use would her pride be then?  She had not known
+before; but now she knew how much Peter meant to her.  Since he had
+come into her life everything had changed, and she had grown
+discontented with the things that, hitherto, she had tacitly accepted
+as her portion.
+
+"You're fretting, me dear!"  Mr. Triggs's remark came back to her.  She
+recalled how indignant she had been.  Why?  Because it was true.  She
+had been cross.  She remembered the old man's anxiety lest he had
+offended her.  She almost smiled as she recalled his clumsy effort to
+explain away his remark.
+
+She had heard someone knock gently at her door, once, twice, three
+times.  She made no response.  Then Gustave's voice whispered, "Tea is
+served in the looaunge, mees."  She heard him creep away with clumsy
+stealth.  There was a sweet-natured creature.  He could never disguise
+an emotion.  He had come upstairs during the raid, though in obvious
+terror, in order to save her.  Mr. Triggs, Gustave, Elton, all were
+against her.  She knew that in some subtle way they were working to
+fight _her_ pride.
+
+For some time longer she lay, then suddenly she sprang up.  First she
+bathed her face, then undid her hair, finally she changed her frock and
+powdered her nose.
+
+"Hurry up, Patricia! or you may think better of it," she cried to her
+reflection in the glass.  "This is a race with spinsterhood."
+
+Going downstairs quietly she went to the telephone.
+
+"Gerrard 60000," she called, conscious that both her voice and her
+knees were unsteady.
+
+After what seemed an age there came the reply, "Quadrant Hotel."
+
+"Is Lord Peter Bowen in?" she enquired.  "Thank you," she added in
+response to the clerk's promise to enquire.
+
+Her hand was shaking.  She almost dropped the receiver.  He must be
+out, she told herself, after what seemed to her an age of waiting.  If
+he were in they would have found him.  Perhaps he had already started
+for----
+
+"Who is that?"  It was Bowen's voice.
+
+Patricia felt she could sing.  So he had not gone!  Would her knees
+play her false and cheat her?
+
+"It's--it's me," she said, regardless of grammar.
+
+"That's delightful; but who is me?" came the response.
+
+No wonder woman liked him if he spoke like that to them, she decided.
+
+Suddenly she realised that even she herself could not recognise as her
+own the voice with which she was speaking.
+
+"Patricia," she said.
+
+"Patricia!"  There was astonishment, almost incredulity in his voice.
+So Elton had said nothing.  "Where are you?  Can I see you?"
+
+Patricia felt her cheeks burn at the eagerness of his tone.
+
+"I'm--I'm going out.  I--I'll call for you if you like," she stammered.
+
+"I say, how ripping of you.  Come in a taxi or shall I come and fetch
+you?"
+
+"No, I--I'm coming now, I'm----" then she put up the receiver.  What
+was she going to do or say?  For a moment she swayed.  Was she going to
+faint?  A momentary deadly sickness seemed to overcome her.  She fought
+it back fiercely.  She must get to the Quadrant.  "I shall have to be a
+sort of reincarnation of Mrs. Triggs, I think," she murmured as she
+staggered past the astonished Gustave, who was just coming from the
+lounge, and out of the front door, where she secured a taxi.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+THE GREATEST INDISCRETION
+
+
+I
+
+In the vestibule of the Quadrant stood Peel, looking a veritable
+colossus of negation.  As Patricia approached he bowed and led the way
+to the lift.  As it slid upwards Patricia wondered if Peel could hear
+the thumping of her heart, and if so, what he thought of it.  She
+followed him along the carpeted corridor conscious of a mad desire to
+turn and fly.  What would Peel do? she wondered.  Possibly in the
+madness of the moment his mantle of discretion might fall from him, and
+he would dash after her.  What a sensation for the Quadrant!  A girl
+tearing along as if for her life pursued by a gentleman's servant.  It
+would look just like the poster of "Charley's Aunt."
+
+Peel opened the door of Bowen's sitting-room, and Patricia entered with
+the smile still on her lips that the thought of "Charley's Aunt" had
+aroused.  Something seemed to spring towards her from inside the room,
+and she found herself caught in a pair of arms and kissed.  She
+remembered wondering if Peel were behind, or if he had closed the door,
+then she abandoned herself to Bowen's embrace.
+
+Everything seemed somehow changed.  It was as if someone had suddenly
+shouldered her responsibilities, and she would never have to think
+again for herself.  Her lips, her eyes, her hair, were kissed in turn.
+She was being crushed; yet she was conscious only of a feeling of
+complete content.
+
+Suddenly the realisation of what was happening dawned upon her, and she
+strove to free herself.  With all her force she pushed Bowen from her.
+He released her.  She stood back looking at him with crimson cheeks and
+unseeing eyes.  She was conscious that something unusual was happening
+to her, something in which she appeared to have no voice.  Perhaps it
+was all a dream.  She swayed a little.  The same sensation she had
+fought back at the telephone was overcoming her.  Was she going to
+faint?  It would be ridiculous to faint in Bowen's rooms.  Why did
+people faint?  Was it really, as Aunt Adelaide had told her, because
+the heart missed a beat?  One beat----
+
+She felt Bowen's arm round her, she seemed to sway towards a chair.
+Was the chair really moving away from her?  Then the mist seemed to
+clear.  Someone was kneeling beside her.
+
+Bowen gazed at her anxiously.  Her face was now colourless, and her
+eyes closed wearily.  She sighed as a tired child sighs before falling
+asleep.
+
+"Patricia! what is the matter?" cried Bowen In alarm.  "You haven't
+fainted, have you?"
+
+She was conscious of the absurdity of the question.  She opened her
+eyes with a curious fluttering movement of the lids, as if they were
+uncertain how long they could remain unclosed.  A slow, tired smile
+played across her face, like a passing shaft of sunshine, then the lids
+closed again and the life seemed to go out of her body.
+
+Bowen gently withdrew his arm and, rising, strode across to a table on
+which was a decanter of whisky and syphon of soda.  With unsteady
+hands, he poured whisky and soda into a glass and, returning to
+Patricia, he passed his arm gently behind her head, placing the glass
+against her lips.  She drank a little and then, with a shudder, turned
+her head aside.  A moment later her eyes opened again.  She looked
+round the room, then fixed her gaze on Bowen as if trying to explain to
+herself his presence.  Gradually the colour returned to her cheeks and
+she sighed deeply.  She shook her head as Bowen put the glass against
+her lips.
+
+"I nearly fainted," she whispered, sighing again.  "I've never done
+such a thing."  Then after a pause she added, "I wonder what has
+happened.  My head feels so funny."
+
+"It's all my fault," said Bowen penitently.  "I've waited so long, and
+I seemed to go mad.  You will forgive me, dearest, won't you?" his
+voice was full of concern.
+
+Patricia smiled.  "Have I been here long?" she asked.  "It seems ages
+since I came."
+
+"No; only about five minutes.  Oh, Patricia! you won't do it again,
+will you?"  Bowen drew her nearer to him and upset the glass containing
+the remains of the whisky and soda that he had placed on the floor
+beside him.
+
+"I didn't quite faint, really," she said earnestly, as if defending
+herself from a reproach.
+
+"I mean throw me over," explained Bowen.  "It's been hell!"
+
+"Please go and sit down," she said, moving restlessly.  "I'm all right
+now.  I--I want to talk and I can't talk like this."  Again she smiled,
+and Bowen lifted her hand and kissed it gently.  Rising he drew a chair
+near her and sat down.
+
+"You see all this comes of trying to be a Mrs. Triggs," she said
+regretfully.
+
+"Mrs. Triggs!"  Bowen looked at her anxiously.
+
+Slowly and a little wearily Patricia explained her conversation with
+Elton.  "Didn't he tell you he had seen me?"
+
+"No," replied Bowen, relieved at the explanation; "Godfrey is a perfect
+dome of silence on occasion."
+
+"Why did you suddenly leave me all alone, Peter?" Patricia enquired
+presently.  "I couldn't understand.  It hurt me terribly.  I didn't
+realise"--she paused--"oh, everything, until I heard you were going
+away.  Oh, my dear!" she cried in a low voice, "be gentle with me.  I'm
+all bruises."
+
+Bowen bent across to her.  "I'm a brute," he said, "but----"
+
+She shook her head.  "Not that sort," she said.  "It's my pride I've
+bruised.  I seem to have turned everything upside down.  You'll have to
+be very gentle with me at first, please."  She looked up at him with a
+flicker of a smile.
+
+"Not only at first, dear, but always," said Bowen gently as he rose and
+seated himself beside her.  "Patricia, when did you--care?" he blurted
+out the last word hurriedly.
+
+"I don't know," she replied dreamily.  "You see," she continued after a
+pause, "I've not been like other girls.  Do you know, Peter," she
+looked up at him shyly, "you're the first man who has ever kissed me,
+except my father.  Isn't it absurd?"
+
+"It's nothing of the sort," Bowen declared, tilting up her chin and
+gazing down into her eyes.  "But you haven't answered my question."
+
+"Well!" continued Patricia, speaking slowly, "when you sent me flowers
+and messengers and telegraph-boys and things I was angry, and then when
+you didn't I----" she paused.
+
+"Wanted them," he suggested.
+
+"U-m-m-m!" she nodded her head.  "I suppose so," she conceded.  "But,"
+she added with a sudden change of mood, "I shall always be dreadfully
+afraid of Peel.  He seems so perfect."
+
+Bowen laughed.  "I'll try and balance matters," he said.
+
+"But you haven't told me," said Patricia, "why you left me alone all at
+once.  Why did you?"  She looked up enquiringly at him.
+
+During the next half an hour Patricia slowly drew from Bowen the whole
+story of the plot engineered by Lady Tanagra.
+
+"But why," questioned Patricia, "were you going away if you knew
+that--that everything would come all right?"
+
+"I had given up hope, and I couldn't break my promise to Tan.  I
+convinced myself that you didn't care."
+
+Patricia held out her hand with a smile.  Bowen bent and kissed it.
+
+"I wonder what you are thinking of me?"  She looked up at him
+anxiously.  "I'm very much at your mercy now, Peter, aren't I?  You
+won't let me ever regret it, will you?"
+
+"Do you regret it?" he whispered, bending towards her, conscious of the
+fragrance of her hair.
+
+"It's such an unconditional surrender," she complained.  "All my pride
+is bruised and trampled underfoot.  You have me at such a disadvantage."
+
+"So long as I've got you I don't care," he laughed.
+
+"Peter," said Patricia after a few minutes of silence, "I want you to
+ring up Tanagra and Godfrey Elton and ask them to dine here this
+evening.  They must put off any other engagement.  Tell them I say so."
+
+"But can't we----?" began Bowen.
+
+"There, you are making me regret already," she said with a flash of her
+old vivacity.
+
+Bowen flew to the telephone.  By a lucky chance Elton was calling at
+Grosvenor Square, and Bowen was able to get them both with one call.
+He was a little disappointed, however, at not having Patricia to
+himself that evening.
+
+"When shall we get married?" Bowen asked eagerly, as Patricia rose and
+announced that she must go and repair damages to her face and garments.
+
+"I will tell you after dinner," she said as she walked towards the door.
+
+
+II
+
+"It is only the impecunious who are constrained to be modest," remarked
+Elton as the four sat smoking in Bowen's room after dinner.
+
+"Is that an apology, or merely a statement of fact?" asked Lady Tanagra.
+
+"I think," remarked Patricia quietly, "that it is an apology."
+
+Elton looked across at her with one of those quick movements of his
+eyes that showed how alert his mind was, in spite of the languid ease
+of his manner.
+
+"And now," continued Patricia, "I have something very important to say
+to you all."
+
+"Oh!" groaned Lady Tanagra, "spare me from the self-importance of the
+newly-engaged girl."
+
+"It has come to my knowledge, Tanagra," proceeded Patricia, "that you
+and Mr. Elton did deliberately and wittingly conspire together against
+my peace of mind and happiness.  There!" she added, "that's almost
+legal in its ambiguity, isn't it?"
+
+Lady Tanagra and Elton exchanged glances.
+
+"What do you mean?" demanded Lady Tanagra gaily.
+
+Patricia explained that she had extracted from Bowen the whole story.
+Lady Tanagra looked reproachfully at her brother.  Then turning to
+Patricia she said with unwonted seriousness:
+
+"I saw that was the only way to--to--well get you for a sister-in-law
+and," she paused a moment uncertainly.  "I knew you were the only girl
+for that silly old thing there, who was blundering up the whole
+business."
+
+"Your mania for interfering in other people's affairs will be your
+ruin, Tanagra," said Patricia as she turned to Elton, her look clearly
+enquiring if he had any excuse to offer.
+
+"The old Garden of Eden answer," he said.  "A woman tempted me."
+
+"Then we will apply the old Garden of Eden punishment," announced
+Patricia.
+
+Elton, who was the first to grasp her meaning, looked anxiously at Lady
+Tanagra, who with knitted brows was endeavouring to penetrate to
+Patricia's meaning.  Bowen was obviously at sea.  Suddenly Lady
+Tanagra's face flamed and her eyes dropped.  Elton stroked the back of
+his head, a habit he had when preoccupied--he was never nervous.
+
+"You two," continued Patricia, now thoroughly enjoying herself, "have
+precipitated yourselves into my most private affairs, and in return I
+am going to take a hand in yours.  Peter has asked me when I will marry
+him.  I said I would tell him after dinner this evening."
+
+Bowen looked across at her eagerly, Elton lit another cigarette, Lady
+Tanagra toyed nervously with her amber cigarette-holder.
+
+"I will marry Peter," announced Patricia, "when you, Tanagra," she
+paused slightly, "marry Godfrey Elton."
+
+Lady Tanagra looked up with a startled cry.  Her eyes were wide with
+something that seemed almost fear, then without warning she turned and
+buried her head in a cushion and burst into uncontrollable sobbing.
+
+Bowen started up.  With a swift movement Patricia went over to his side
+and, before he knew what was happening, he was in the corridor
+stuttering his astonishment to Patricia.
+
+For an hour the two sat in the lounge below, talking and listening to
+the band.  Patricia explained to Bowen how from the first she had known
+that Elton and Tanagra were in love.
+
+"But we've known him all our lives!" expostulated Bowen.
+
+"The very thing that blinded you all to a most obvious fact."
+
+"But why didn't he----?" began Bowen.
+
+"Because of her money," explained Patricia.  "Anyhow," she continued
+gaily, "I had lost my own tail, and I wasn't going to see Tanagra
+wagging hers before my eyes.  Now let's go up and see what has
+happened."
+
+Just as Bowen's hand was on the handle of the sitting-room door,
+Patricia cried out that she had dropped a ring.  When they entered the
+room Elton and Lady Tanagra were standing facing the door.  One glance
+at their faces, told Patricia all she wanted to know.  Without a word
+Elton came forward and bending low, kissed her hand.  There was
+something so touching in his act of deference that Patricia felt her
+throat contract.
+
+She went across to Lady Tanagra and put her arm round her.
+
+"You darling!" whispered Lady Tanagra.  "How clever of you to know."
+
+"I knew the first time I saw you together," whispered Patricia.
+
+Lady Tanagra hugged her.
+
+"And now we must all run round to Grosvenor Square.  Poor Mother--what
+a surprise for her!"
+
+
+III
+
+Elton's medical board took a more serious view of his state of health
+than was anticipated, and he was temporarily given an appointment in
+the Intelligence Department.  Bowen's application to be allowed to
+rejoin his regiment was refused, and thus the way was cleared for the
+double wedding that took place at St. Margaret's, Westminster.
+
+Patricia was given away by the Duke of Gayton.  Lady Peggy declared
+that it would rank as the most heroic act he had ever performed.  Mr.
+Triggs reached the highest sartorial pinnacle of his career in a light
+grey, almost white frock-coated suit with a high hat to match, a white
+waistcoat, and a white satin tie.  As Elton expressed it, he looked
+like a musical-comedy conception of a bookmaker turned philanthropist.
+
+Galvin House was there in force.  Even Gustave obtained an hour off
+and, with a large white rose in his button-hole, beamed on everyone and
+everything with the utmost impartiality.  Miss Brent, like Achilles,
+sulked in her tent.
+
+"The only two men I ever loved," wailed Lady Peggy to a friend, "and
+both gone at one shot."
+
+"She's a lucky girl," said an old dowager, "and only a secretary."
+
+"Some girl.  What!" muttered an embryo field-marshal to a one-pip
+strategist in the uniform of the Irish Guards, who concurred with an
+emphatic, "Lucky devil!"
+
+At Galvin House for the rest of the chapter they talked, dreamed and
+lived the Bowen-Brent marriage.  It was the one ineffaceable sunspot in
+the greyness of their lives.
+
+
+
+
+HERBERT JENKINS'
+
+SHILLING LIBRARY
+
+
+  BINDLE                                 HERBERT JENKINS
+  WITHOUT MERCY                          JOHN GOODWIN
+  PICCADILLY JIM                         P. G. WODEHOUSE
+  THE FRINGE OF THE DESERT               R. S. MACNAMARA
+  THE CHARING CROSS MYSTERY              J. S. FLETCHER
+  THE MAN WITH THE CLUBFOOT              VALENTINE WILLIAMS
+  ALF'S BUTTON                           W. A. DARLINGTON
+  HIDDEN FIRES                           MRS. PATRICK MACGILL
+  THE LUCK OF THE VAILS                  E. F. BENSON
+  THE WHISKERED FOOTMAN                  EDGAR JEPSON
+  THE DIAMOND CROSS MYSTERY              CHESTER K. S. STEELE
+  THE MYSTERY OF THE SCENTED DEATH       ROY VICKERS
+  ANTHONY TRENT, MASTER CRIMINAL         WYNDHAM MARTYN
+  THE MARKENMORE MYSTERY                 J. S. FLETCHER
+  A DAUGHTER IN REVOLT                   JOHN GOODWIN
+  THE BARTERED BRIDE                     MRS. PATRICK MACGILL
+  A DAMSEL IN DISTRESS                   P. G. WODEHOUSE
+  HIS OTHER WIFE                         ROY VICKERS
+  THE COMPULSORY WIFE                    JOHN GLYDER
+  THE WINNING CLUE                       JAMES HAY, Jun.
+  PATRICIA BRENT, SPINSTER               HERBERT JENKINS
+  THE SECRET OF THE SILVER CAR           WYNDHAM MARTYN
+  ISAACS                                 JOSEPH GEE
+  PLAYING WITH SOULS                     COUNTESS DE CHAMBRUN
+  THE MYSTERIOUS CHINAMAN                J. S. FLETCHER
+  THE FLAME OF LIFE                      MRS. PATRICK MACGILL
+  BLACKMAIL                              JOHN GOODWIN
+  THAT RED-HEADED GIRL                   LOUISE HEILGERS
+  MOLESKIN JOE                           PATRICK MACGILL
+  SALLY ON THE ROCKS                     WINIFRED BOGGS
+  THE UNLIGHTED HOUSE                    JAMES HAY, Jun.
+  THE EDGE OF THE WORLD                  EDITH BLINN
+
+
+
+3 YORK STREET   ST. JAMES'S   LONDON S.W.1
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Patricia Brent, Spinster, by Herbert Jenkins
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+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Patricia Brent, Spinster, by Herbert Jenkins
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Patricia Brent, Spinster
+
+Author: Herbert Jenkins
+
+Release Date: August 5, 2010 [EBook #33353]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PATRICIA BRENT, SPINSTER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Al Haines
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<BR><BR>
+
+<H1 ALIGN="center">
+PATRICIA BRENT, SPINSTER
+</H1>
+
+<BR><BR>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+BY
+<BR>
+HERBERT JENKINS
+</H3>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+HERBERT JENKINS LIMITED
+<BR>
+3 YORK STREET, LONDON S.W.1
+<BR>
+1918
+</H3>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<H4 ALIGN="center">
+A<BR>
+HERBERT<BR>
+JENKINS'<BR>
+BOOK<BR>
+</H4>
+
+<BR>
+
+<H5 ALIGN="center">
+<I>Fifteenth printing completing 153,658 copies</I>
+<BR><BR>
+MADE AND PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY
+<BR>
+PURNELL AND SONS, PAULTON (SOMERSET) AND LONDON
+</H5>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<H2 ALIGN="center">
+CONTENTS
+</H2>
+
+<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%">
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">CHAPTER</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">&nbsp;</TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">I.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap01">PATRICIA'S INDISCRETION</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap02">THE BONSOR-TRIGGS' MENAGE</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap03">THE ADVENTURE AT THE QUADRANT GRILL-ROOM</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap04">THE MADNESS OF LORD PETER BOWEN</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">V.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap05">PATRICIA'S REVENGE</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VI.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap06">THE INTERVENTION OF AUNT ADELAIDE</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VII.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap07">LORD PETER PROMISES A SOLUTION</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VIII.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap08">LORD PETER'S S.O.S.</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IX.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap09">LADY TANAGRA TAKES A HAND</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">X.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap10">MISS BRENT'S STRATEGY</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XI.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap11">THE DEFECTION OF MR. TRIGGS</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XII.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap12">A BOMBSHELL</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIII.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap13">A TACTICAL BLUNDER</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIV.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap14">GALVIN HOUSE MEETS A LORD</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XV.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap15">MR. TRIGGS TAKES TEA IN KENSINGTON GARDENS</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVI.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap16">PATRICIA'S INCONSTANCY</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVII.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap17">LADY PEGGY MAKES A FRIEND</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVIII.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap18">THE AIR RAID</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIX.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap19">GALVIN HOUSE AFTER THE RAID</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XX.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap20">A RACE WITH SPINSTERHOOD</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXI.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap21">THE GREATEST INDISCRETION</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+</TABLE>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+WHAT THIS STORY IS ABOUT
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Patricia Brent is a "paying guest" at the Galvin House Residential
+Hotel.  One day she overhears two of her fellow "guests" pitying her
+because she "never has a nice young man to take her out."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In a thoughtless moment of anger she announced that on the following
+night she is dining at the Quadrant with her fiancé.  When in due
+course she enters the grill-room, she finds some of Galvin Houseites
+there to watch her.  Rendered reckless by the thought of the
+humiliation of being found out, she goes up to a young staff-officer,
+and asks him to help her by "playing up."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+This is how she meets Lt.-Col. Lord Peter Bowen, D.S.O.  The story is a
+comedy concerned with the complications that ensue from Patricia's
+thoughtless act.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap01"></A>
+
+<H2 ALIGN="center">
+PATRICIA BRENT, SPINSTER
+</H2>
+
+<BR>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER I
+</H3>
+
+<H4 ALIGN="center">
+PATRICIA'S INDISCRETION
+</H4>
+
+<P>
+"She never has anyone to take her out, and goes nowhere, and yet she
+can't be more than twenty-seven, and really she's not bad-looking."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's not looks that attract men," there was a note of finality in the
+voice; "it's something else."  The speaker snapped off her words in a
+tone that marked extreme disapproval.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What else?" enquired the other voice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, it's&mdash;well, it's something not quite nice," replied the other
+voice darkly, "the French call it being <I>très femme</I>.  However, she
+hasn't got it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I feel very sorry for her and her loneliness.  I am sure she
+would be much happier if she had a nice young man of her own class to
+take her about."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia Brent listened with flaming cheeks.  She felt as if someone
+had struck her.  She recognised herself as the object of the speakers'
+comments.  She could not laugh at the words, because they were true.
+She <I>was</I> lonely, she had no men friends to take her about, and yet,
+and yet&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Twenty-seven," she muttered indignantly, "and I was only twenty-four
+last November."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She identified the two speakers as Miss Elizabeth Wangle and Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Wangle was the great-niece of a bishop, and to have a bishop in
+heaven is a great social asset on earth.  This ecclesiastical
+distinction seemed to give her the right of leadership at the Galvin
+House Residential Hotel.  Whenever a new boarder arrived, the
+unfortunate bishop was disinterred and brandished before his eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+One facetious young man in the "commercial line" had dubbed her "the
+body-snatcher," and, being inordinately proud of his <I>jeu d'esprit</I>, he
+had worn it threadbare, and Miss Wangle had got to know of it.  The
+result was the sudden departure of the wit.  Miss Wangle had intimated
+to Mrs. Craske-Morton, the proprietress, that if he remained she would
+go.  Mrs. Craske-Morton considered that Miss Wangle gave tone to Galvin
+House.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Wangle was acid of speech and barren of pity.  Scandal and "the
+dear bishop" were her chief preoccupations.  She regularly read <I>The
+Morning Post</I>, which she bought, and <I>The Times</I>, which she borrowed.
+In her attitude towards royalty she was a Jacobite, and of the
+aristocracy she knew no wrong.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe was Miss Wangle's toady; but she wrapped her venom
+in Christian charity, thus making herself the more dangerous of the two.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At Galvin House none dare gainsay these two in their pronouncements.
+They were disliked; but more feared than hated.  During the Zeppelin
+scare Mr. Bolton, who was the humorist of Galvin House, had fixed a
+notice to the drawing-room door, which read: "Zeppelin commanders are
+requested to confine their attentions to rooms 8 and 18."  Rooms 8 and
+18 were those occupied by Miss Wangle and Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe.  There
+had been a great fuss about this harmless and rather feeble joke; but
+fortunately for Mr. Bolton, he had taken care to pin his jest on the
+door when no one was looking, and he took the additional precaution of
+being foremost in his denunciation of the bad taste shown by the person
+responsible for the jest.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia Brent was coming downstairs in response to the dinner-gong,
+when, through the partly open door of the lounge, she overheard the
+amiable remarks concerning herself.  She passed quietly into the
+dining-room and took her seat at the table in silence, mechanically
+acknowledging the greetings of her fellow-guests.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At Galvin House the word "guest" was insisted upon.  Mrs.
+Craske-Morton, in announcing the advent of a new arrival, reached the
+pinnacle of refinement.  "We have another guest coming," she would say,
+"a most interesting man," or "a very cultured woman," as the case might
+be.  When the man arrived without his interest, or the woman without
+her culture, no one was disappointed; for no one had expected anything.
+The conventions had been observed and that was all that mattered.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dinner at Galvin House was rather a dismal affair.  The separate tables
+heresy, advocated by a progressive-minded guest, had been once and for
+all discouraged by Miss Wangle, who announced that if separate tables
+were introduced she, for one, would not stay.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I remember the dear bishop once saying to me," she remarked, "'My
+dear, if people can't say what they have to say at a large table and in
+the hearing of others, then let it for ever remain unsaid.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But if someone's dress is awry, or their hair is not on straight,
+would you announce the fact to the whole table?" Patricia had
+questioned with an innocence that was a little overdone.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Wangle had glared; for she wore the most obvious auburn wig, which
+failed to convince anyone, and served only to enhance the pallor of her
+sharp features.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In consequence of the table arrangements, conversation during
+meal-times was general&mdash;and dull.  Mr. Bolton joked, Miss Wangle poured
+vinegar on oily waters, Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe "dripped with the oil of
+forbearance."  Mr. Cordal ate noisily, Miss Sikkum simpered and Mrs.
+Craske-Morton strove to appear a real hostess entertaining real guests
+without the damning prefix "paying."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The remaining guests, there were usually round about twenty-five,
+looked as they felt they ought to look, and never failed to show a
+befitting reverence for Miss Wangle's ecclesiastical relic; for it was
+Miss Wangle who issued the social birth certificates at Galvin House.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+That evening Patricia was silent.  Mr. Bolton endeavoured to draw her
+out, but failed.  As a rule she was the first to laugh at his jokes in
+order "to encourage the poor little man," as she expressed it; "for a
+man who is fat and bald and a bachelor and thinks he's a humorist wants
+all the pity that the world can lavish upon him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia glanced round the table, from Miss Wangle, lean as a winter
+wolf, to Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe, fair, chubby and faded, and on to Mr.
+Cordal, lantern-jawed and ravenous.  "Were they not all lonely&mdash;the
+left of God?" Patricia asked herself; and yet two of these solitary
+souls had dared to pity her, Patricia Brent.  At least she had
+something they did not possess&mdash;youth.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The more she thought of the words that had drifted to her through the
+half-closed door of the lounge, the more humiliating they appeared.
+Her day had been particularly trying and she was tired.  She was in a
+mood to see a cyclone in a zephyr, and in a ripple a gigantic wave.
+She looked about her once more.  What a fate to be cast among such
+people!
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The table appointments seemed more than usually irritating that
+evening.  The base metal that peeped slyly through the silver of the
+forks and spoons, the tapering knives, victims of much cleaning, with
+their yellow handles, the salt-cellars, the mustard, browning with
+three days' age (mustard was replenished on Sundays only), the anæmic
+ferns in "artistic" pots, every defect seemed emphasized.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+How she hated it; but most of all the many-shaped and multi-coloured
+napkin-rings, at Galvin House known as "serviette-rings."  Variety was
+necessary to ensure each guest's personal interest in one particular
+napkin.  Did they ever get mixed?  Patricia shuddered at the thought.
+At the end of the week, a "serviette" had become a sort of gastronomic
+diary.  By Saturday evening (new "serviettes" were served out on Sunday
+at luncheon) the square of grey-white fabric had many things recorded
+upon it; but above all, like a monarch dominating his subjects, was the
+ineradicable aroma of Monday's kipper.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+On this particular evening Galvin House seemed more than ever grey and
+depressing.  Patricia found herself wondering if God had really made
+all these people in His own image.  They seemed so petty, so ungodlike.
+The way they regarded their food, as it was handed to them, suggested
+that they were for ever engaged in a comparison of what they paid with
+what they received.  Did God make people in His own image and then
+leave the rest to them?  Was that where free will came in?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"&mdash;&mdash;lonely!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The word seemed to crash in upon her thoughts with explosive force.
+Someone had used it&mdash;whom she did not know, or in what relation.  It
+brought her back to earth and Galvin House.  "Lonely," that was at the
+root of her depression.  She was an object of pity among her
+fellow-boarders.  It was intolerable!  She understood why girls "did
+things" to escape from such surroundings and such fox-pity.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Had she been a domestic servant she could have hired a soldier, that is
+before the war.  Had she been a typist or a shop-girl&mdash;well, there were
+the park and tubes and things where gallant youth approached fair
+maiden.  No, she was just a girl who could not do these things, and in
+consequence became the pitied of the Miss Wangles and the Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythes of Bayswater.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She was quite content to be manless, she did not like men, at least not
+the sort she had encountered.  There were Boltons and Cordals in
+plenty.  There were the "Haven't-we-met-before?" kind too, the hunters
+who seemed cheerfully to get out at the wrong station, or pay twopence
+on a bus for a penny fare in order to pursue some face that had
+attracted their roving eye.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She sighed involuntarily at the ugliness of it all, this cheapening of
+the things worthy of reverence and respect.  She looked across at Miss
+Sikkum, whose short skirts and floppy hats had involved her in many
+unconventional adventures that one glance at her face had corrected as
+if by magic.  A back view of Miss Sikkum was deceptive.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Suddenly Patricia made a resolve.  Had she paused to think she would
+have seen the danger; but she was by nature impulsive, and the
+conversation she had overheard had angered and humiliated her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Her resolve synchronised with the arrival of the sweet stage.  Turning
+to Mrs. Craske-Morton she remarked casually, "I shall not be in to
+dinner to-morrow night, Mrs. Morton."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Craske-Morton always liked her guests to tell her when they were
+not likely to be in to dinner.  "It saves the servants laying an extra
+cover," she would explain.  As a matter of fact it saved Mrs.
+Craske-Morton preparing for an extra mouth.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+If Patricia had hurled a bomb into the middle of the dining-table, she
+could not have attracted to herself more attention than by her simple
+remark that she was not dining at Galvin House on the morrow.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Everybody stopped eating to stare at her.  Miss Sikkum missed her aim
+with a trifle of apple charlotte, and spent the rest of the evening in
+endeavouring to remove the stain from a pale blue satin blouse, which
+in Brixton is known as "a Paris model."  It was Miss Wangle who broke
+the silence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How interesting," she said.  "We shall quite miss you, Miss Brent.  I
+suppose you are working late."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The whole table waited for Patricia's response with breathless
+expectancy.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No!" she replied nonchalantly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I know," said Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe, in her even tones, and wagging an
+admonitory finger at her.  "You're going to a revue, or a music-hall."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Or to sow her wild oats," added Mr. Bolton.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then some devil took possession of Patricia.  She would give them
+something to talk about for the next month.  They should have a shock.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," she replied indifferently, attracting to herself the attention of
+the whole table by her deliberation.  "No, I'm not going to a revue, a
+music-hall, or to sow my wild oats.  As a matter of fact," she paused.
+They literally hung upon her words.  "As a matter of fact I am dining
+with my fiancé."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The effect was electrical.  Miss Sikkum stopped dabbing the front of
+her Brixton "Paris model."  Miss Wangle dropped her pince-nez on the
+edge of her plate and broke the right-hand glass.  Mr. Cordal, a heavy
+man who seldom spoke, but enjoyed his food with noisy gusto, actually
+exclaimed, "What?"  Almost without exception the others repeated his
+exclamation.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Your fiancé?" stuttered Miss Wangle.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But, dear Miss Brent," said Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe, "you never told us
+that you were engaged."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Didn't I?" enquired Patricia indifferently.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And you don't wear a ring," interposed Miss Sikkum eagerly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I hate badges of servitude," remarked Patricia with a laugh.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But an engagement ring," insinuated Miss Sikkum with a self-conscious
+giggle.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"One is freer without a ring," replied Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Wangle's jaw dropped.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Marriages are&mdash;&mdash;" she began.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Made in heaven.  I know," broke in Patricia, "but you try wearing
+Turkish slippers in London, Miss Wangle, and you'll soon want to go
+back to the English boots.  It's silly to make things in one place to
+be worn in another; they never fit."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Craske-Morton coughed portentously.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Really, Miss Brent," she exclaimed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Whenever conversation seemed likely to take an undesirable turn, or she
+foresaw a storm threatening, Mrs. Craske-Morton's "Really, Mr.
+So-and-so" invariably guided it back into a safe channel.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But do they?" persisted Patricia.  "Can you, Mrs. Morton, seriously
+regard marriage in this country as a success?  It's all because
+marriages are made in heaven without taking into consideration our
+climatic conditions."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Wangle had lost the power of speech.  Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe was
+staring at Patricia as if she had been something strange and unclean
+upon which her eyes had never hitherto lighted.  In the eyes of little
+Mrs. Hamilton, a delightfully French type of old lady, there was a
+gleam of amusement.  Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe was the first to recover the
+power of speech.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is your fiancé in the army?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes," replied Patricia desperately.  She had long since thrown over
+all caution.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, tell us his name," giggled Miss Sikkum.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Brown," said Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is his knapsack number 99?" enquired Mr. Bolton.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He doesn't wear one," said Patricia, now thoroughly enjoying herself.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, he's an officer, then," this from Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is he a first or a second lieutenant?" enquired Mrs. Craske-Morton.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Major," responded Patricia laconically.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What's he in?" was the next question.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"West Loamshires."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What battalion?" enquired Miss Wangle, who had now regained the power
+of speech.  "I have a cousin in the Fifth."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am sure I can't remember," said Patricia, "I never could remember
+numbers."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not remember the number of the battalion in which your fiancé is?"
+There was incredulous disapproval in Miss Wangle's voice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No!  I'm awfully sorry," replied Patricia, "I suppose it's very horrid
+of me; but I'll go upstairs and look it up if you like."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh please don't trouble," said Miss Wangle icily.  "I remember the
+dear bishop once saying&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And I suppose after dinner you'll go to a theatre," interrupted Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe, for the first time in the memory of the oldest guest
+indifferent to the bishop and what he had said, thought, or done.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, no, it's war time," said Patricia, "we shall just dine quietly at
+the Quadrant Grill-room."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A meaning glance passed between Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe and Miss Wangle.
+Why she had fixed upon the Quadrant Grill-room Patricia could not have
+said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And now," said Patricia, "I must run upstairs and see that my best bib
+and tucker are in proper condition to be worn before my fiancé.  I'll
+tell him what you say about the ring.  Good night, everybody, if we
+don't meet again."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Patricia Brent," admonished Patricia to her reflection in the
+looking-glass, as she brushed her hair that night, "you're a most
+unmitigated little liar.  You've told those people the wickedest of
+wicked lies.  You've engaged yourself to an unknown major in the
+British Army.  You're going to dine with him to-morrow night, and
+heaven knows what will be the result of it all.  A single lie leads to
+so many.  Oh, Patricia, Patricia!" she nodded her head admonishingly at
+the reflection in the glass.  "You're really a very wicked young
+woman."  Then she burst out laughing.  "At least, I have given them
+something to talk about, any old how.  By now they've probably come to
+the conclusion that I'm a most awful rip."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia never confessed it to herself, but she was extremely lonely.
+Instinctively shy of strangers, she endeavoured to cover up her
+self-consciousness by assuming an attitude of nonchalance, and the
+result was that people saw only the artificiality.  She had been
+brought up in the school of "men are beasts," and she took no trouble
+to disguise her indifference to them.  With women she was more popular.
+If anyone were ill at Galvin House, it was always Patricia Brent who
+ministered to them, sat and read to them, and cheered them through
+convalescence back to health.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Her acquaintance with men had been almost entirely limited to those she
+had found in the various boarding-houses, glorified in the name of
+residential hotels, at which she had stayed.  Five years previously, on
+the death of her father, a lawyer in a small country town, she had come
+to London and obtained a post as secretary to a blossoming politician.
+There she had made herself invaluable, and there she had stayed,
+performing the same tasks day after day, seldom going out, since the
+war never at all, and living a life calculated to make an acid spinster
+of a Venus or a Juno.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, bother to-morrow!" said Patricia as she got into bed that night;
+"it's a long way off and perhaps something will happen before then,"
+and with that she switched off the light.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap02"></A>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER II
+</H3>
+
+<H4 ALIGN="center">
+THE BONSOR-TRIGGS' MENAGE
+</H4>
+
+<P>
+The next morning Patricia awakened with a feeling that something had
+occurred in her life.  For a time she lay pondering as to what it could
+be.  Suddenly memory came with a flash, and she smiled.  That night she
+was dining out!  As suddenly as it had come the smile faded from her
+lips and eyes, and she mentally apostrophised herself as a little idiot
+for what she had done.  Then, remembering Miss Wangle's remark and the
+expression on Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe's face, the lines of her mouth
+hardened, and there was a determined air about the tilt of her chin.
+She smiled again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Patricia Brent!  No, that won't do," she broke off.  Then springing
+out of bed she went over to the mirror, adjusted the dainty boudoir cap
+upon her head and, bowing elaborately to her reflection, said,
+"Patricia Brent, I invite you to dine with me this evening at the
+Quadrant Grill-room.  I hope you'll be able to come.  How delightful.
+We shall have a most charming time."  Then she sat on the edge of the
+bed and pondered.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Of course she would have to come back radiantly happy, girls who have
+been out with their fiancé's always return radiantly happy.  "That will
+mean two <I>crèmes de menthes</I> instead of one, that's another shilling,
+perhaps two," she murmured.  Then she must have a good dinner or else
+the <I>crème de menthe</I> would get into her head, that would mean about
+seven shillings more.  "Oh!  Patricia, Patricia," she wailed, "you have
+let yourself in for an expense of at least ten shillings, the point
+being is a major in the British Army worth an expenditure of ten
+shillings?  We shall&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She was interrupted by the maid knocking at the door to inform her that
+it was her turn for the bath-room.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As Patricia walked across the Park that morning on her way to Eaton
+Square, where the politician lived who employed her as private
+secretary whilst he was in the process of rising, she pondered over her
+last night's announcement.  She was convinced that she had acted
+foolishly, and in a way that would probably involve her in not only
+expense, but some trouble and inconvenience.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At the breakfast-table the conversation had been entirely devoted to
+herself, her fiancé, and the coming dinner together.  Miss Wangle, Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe, and Miss Sikkum, supported by Mrs. Craske-Morton, had
+returned to the charge time after time.  Patricia had taken refuge in
+her habitual breakfast silence and, finding that they could draw
+nothing from her her fellow-guests had proceeded to discuss the matter
+among themselves.  It was with a feeling of relief that Patricia rose
+from the table.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was an east wind blowing, and Patricia had always felt that an
+east wind made her a materialist.  This morning she was depressed;
+there was in her heart a feeling that fate had not been altogether kind
+to her.  Her childhood had been spent in a small town on the East Coast
+under the care of her father's sister who, when Mrs. Brent died, had
+come to keep house for Mr. John Brent and take care of his
+five-year-old daughter.  In her aunt Patricia found a woman soured by
+life.  What it was that had soured her Patricia could never gather; but
+Aunt Adelaide was for ever emphasizing the fact that men were beasts.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Later Patricia saw in her aunt a disappointed woman.  She could
+remember as a child examining with great care her aunt's hard features
+and angular body, and wondering if she had ever been pretty, and if
+anyone had kissed her because they wanted to and not because it was
+expected of them.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The lack of sympathy between aunt and niece had driven Patricia more
+and more to seek her father's companionship.  He was a silent man,
+little given to emotion or demonstration of affection.  He loved
+Patricia, but lacked the faculty of conveying to her the knowledge of
+his love.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As she walked across the Park Patricia came to the conclusion that, for
+some reason or other, love, or the outward visible signs of love, had
+been denied her.  Warm-hearted, impetuous, spontaneous, she had been
+chilled by the self-repression of her father, and the lack of affection
+of her aunt.  She had been schooled to regard God as the God of
+punishment rather than the God of love.  One of her most terrifying
+recollections was that of the Sundays spent under the paternal roof.
+To her father, religion counted for nothing; but to her aunt it counted
+for everything in the world; the hereafter was to be the compensation
+for renunciation in this world.  Miss Brent's attitude towards prayer
+was that of one who regards it as a means by which she is able to
+convey to the Almighty what she expects of Him in the next world as a
+reward for what she has done, or rather not done, in this.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia had once asked, in a childish moment of speculation, "But,
+Aunt Adelaide, suppose God doesn't make us happy in the next world,
+what shall we do then?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh! yes He will," was her aunt's reply, uttered with such grimness
+that Patricia, though only six years of age, had been satisfied that
+not even God would dare to disappoint Aunt Adelaide.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia had been a lonely child.  She had come to distrust spontaneity
+and, in consequence, became shy and self-conscious, with the inevitable
+result that other children, the few who were in Aunt Adelaide's opinion
+fit for her to associate with, made it obvious that she was one by
+herself.  Patricia had fallen back on her father's library, where she
+had read many books that would have caused her aunt agonies of stormy
+anguish, had she known.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia early learnt the necessity for dissimulation.  She always
+carefully selected two books, one that she could ostensibly be reading
+if her aunt happened to come into the library, and the other that she
+herself wanted to read, and of which she knew her aunt would strongly
+disapprove.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Brent regarded boarding-schools as "hotbeds of vice," and in
+consequence Patricia was educated at home, educated in a way that she
+would never have been at any school; for Miss Brent was thorough in
+everything she undertook.  The one thing for which Patricia had to be
+grateful to her aunt was her general knowledge, and the sane methods
+adopted with her education.  But for this she would not have been in
+the position to accept a secretaryship to a politician.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When Patricia was twenty-one her father had died, and she inherited
+from her mother an annuity of a hundred pounds a year.  Her aunt had
+suggested that they should live together; but Patricia had announced
+her intention of working, and with the money that she realised from the
+sale of her father's effects, particularly his library, she came to
+London and underwent a course of training in shorthand, typewriting,
+and general secretarial work.  This was in March, 1914.  Before she was
+ready to undertake a post, the war broke out upon Europe like a
+cataclysm, and a few months later Patricia had obtained a post as
+private secretary to Mr. Arthur Bonsor, M.P.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Bonsor was the victim of marriage.  Destiny had ordained that he
+should spend his life in golf and gardening, or in breeding earless
+rabbits and stingless bees.  He was bucolic and passive.  Mrs. Bonsor,
+however, after a slight altercation with Destiny, had decided that Mr.
+Bonsor was to become a rising politician.  Thus it came about that,
+pushed on from behind by Mrs. Bonsor and led by Patricia, whose general
+knowledge was of the greatest possible assistance to him, Mr. Bonsor
+was in the elaborate process of rising at the time when Patricia
+determined to have a fiancé.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Bonsor was a small, fair-haired man, prematurely bald, an
+indifferent speaker; but excellent in committee.  Instinctively he was
+gentle and kind.  Mrs. Bonsor disliked Patricia and Patricia was
+indifferent to Mrs. Bonsor.  Mrs. Bonsor, however, recognised that in
+Patricia her husband had a remarkably good secretary, one whom it would
+be difficult to replace.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Bonsor's attitude to everyone who was not in a superior position
+to herself was one of patronage.  Patricia she looked upon as an upper
+servant, although she never dare show it.  Patricia, on the other hand,
+showed very clearly that she had no intention of being treated other
+than as an equal by Mrs. Bonsor, and the result was a sort of armed
+neutrality.  They seldom met; when by chance they encountered each
+other in the house Mrs. Bonsor would say, "Good morning, Miss Brent; I
+hope you walked across the Park."  Patricia would reply, "Yes, most
+enjoyable; I invariably walk across the Park when I have time"; and
+with a forced smile Mrs. Bonsor would say, "That is very wise of you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Never did Mrs. Bonsor speak to Patricia without enquiring if she had
+walked across the Park.  One day Patricia anticipated Mrs. Bonsor's
+inevitable question by announcing, "I walked across the Park this
+morning, Mrs. Bonsor, it was most delightful," and Mrs. Bonsor had
+glared at her, but, remembering Patricia's value to her husband, had
+made a non-committal reply and passed on.  Henceforth, Mrs. Bonsor
+dropped all reference to the Park.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+On the first day of Patricia's entry into the Bonsor household, Mrs.
+Bonsor had remarked, "Of course you will stay to lunch," and Patricia
+had thanked her and said she would.  But when she found that her
+luncheon was served on a tray in the library, where Mr. Bonsor did his
+work, she had decided that henceforth exercise in the middle of the day
+was necessary for her, and she lunched out.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Bonsor had married beneath him.  His father, a land-poor squire in
+the north of England, had impressed upon all his sons that money was
+essential as a matrimonial asset, and Mr. Bonsor, not having sufficient
+individuality to starve for love, had determined to follow the parental
+decree.  How he met Miss Triggs, the daughter of the prosperous
+Streatham builder and contractor, Samuel Triggs, nobody knew, but his
+father had congratulated him very cordially about having contrived to
+marry her.  Miss Triggs's friends to a woman were of the firm
+conviction that it was Miss Triggs who had married Mr. Bonsor.
+"'Ettie's so ambitious."  remarked her father soon after the wedding,
+"that it's almost a relief to get 'er married."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Bonsor was scarcely back from his honeymoon before he was in full
+possession of the fact that Mrs. Bonsor had determined that he should
+become famous.  She had read how helpful many great men's wives had
+been in their career, and she determined to be the power behind the
+indeterminate Arthur Bonsor.  Poor Mr. Bonsor, who desired nothing
+better than a peaceable life and had looked forward to a future of ease
+and prosperity when he married Miss Triggs, discovered when too late
+that he had married not so much Miss Triggs, as an abstract sense of
+ambition.  Domestic peace was to be purchased only by an attitude of
+entire submission to Mrs. Bonsor's schemes.  He was not without brains,
+but he lacked that impetus necessary to "getting on."  Mrs. Bonsor, who
+was not lacking in shrewdness, observed this and determined that she
+herself would be the impetus.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Bonsor came to dread meal-times, that is meal-times <I>tête-à-tête</I>.
+During these symposiums he was subjected to an elaborate
+cross-examination as to what he was doing to achieve greatness.  Mrs.
+Bonsor insisted upon his being present at every important function to
+which he could gain admittance, particularly the funerals of the
+illustrious great.  Egged on by her he became an inveterate writer of
+letters to the newspapers, particularly <I>The Times</I>.  Sometimes his
+letters appeared, which caused Mrs. Bonsor intense gratification: but
+editors soon became shy of a man who bombarded them with letters upon
+every conceivable subject, from the submarine menace to the question of
+"should women wear last year's frocks?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Triggs had once described his daughter very happily: "'Ettie's one
+of them that ain't content with pressing a bell, but she must keep 'er
+thumb on the bell-push."  That was Mrs. Bonsor all over; she lacked
+restraint, both physical and artistic, and she conceived that if you
+only make noise enough people will, sooner or later, begin to take
+notice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Within three years of his marriage, Mr. Bonsor entered the House of
+Commons.  He had first of all fought in a Radical constituency and been
+badly beaten; but the second time he had, by some curious juggling of
+chance, been successful in an almost equally strong Radical division,
+much to the delight of Mrs. Bonsor.  The success had been largely due
+to her idea of flooding the constituency with pretty girl-canvassers;
+but she had been very careful to keep a watchful eye on Mr. Bonsor.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+One of her reasons for engaging Patricia, for really Mrs. Bonsor was
+responsible for the engagement, had been that she had decided that
+Patricia was indifferent to men, and she decided that Mr. Bonsor might
+safely be trusted with Patricia Brent for long periods of secretarial
+communion.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Bonsor, although not lacking in susceptibility, was entirely devoid
+of that courage which subjugates the feminine heart.  Once he had
+permitted his hand to rest upon Patricia's; but he never forgot the
+look she gave him and, for weeks after, he felt a most awful dog, and
+wondered if Patricia would tell Mrs. Bonsor.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When she married, Mrs. Bonsor saw that it would be necessary to drop
+her family, that is as far as practicable.  It could not be done
+entirely, because her father was responsible for the allowance which
+made it possible for the Bonsors to live in Eaton Square.  The old man
+was not lacking in shrewdness, and he had no intention of being thrown
+overboard by his ambitious daughter.  It occasionally happened that Mr.
+Triggs would descend upon the Bonsor household and, although Mrs.
+Bonsor did her best to suppress him, that is without in any way showing
+she was ashamed of her parent, he managed to make Patricia's
+acquaintance and, from that time, made a practice of enquiring for and
+having a chat with her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Bonsor was grateful to providence for having removed her mother
+previous to her marriage.  Mrs. Triggs had been a homely soul, with a
+marked inclination to be "friendly."  She overflowed with good-humour,
+and was a woman who would always talk in an omnibus, or join a wedding
+crowd and compare notes with those about her.  She addressed Mr. Triggs
+as "Pa," which caused her daughter a mental anguish of which Mrs.
+Triggs was entirely unaware.  It was not until Miss Triggs was almost
+out of her teens that her mother was persuaded to cease calling her
+"Girlie."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In Mrs. Bonsor the reforming spirit was deeply ingrained; but she had
+long since despaired of being able to influence her father's taste in
+dress.  She groaned in spirit each time she saw him, for his sartorial
+ideas were not those of Mayfair.  He leaned towards checks, rather loud
+checks, trousers that were tight about the calf, and a coat that was a
+sporting conception of the morning coat, with a large flapped pocket on
+either side.  He invariably wore a red tie and an enormous watch-chain
+across his prosperous-looking figure.  His hat was a high felt, an
+affair that seemed to have set out in life with the ambition of being a
+top hat, but losing heart had compromised.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+If Mrs. Bonsor dreaded her father's visits, Patricia welcomed them.
+She was genuinely fond of the old man.  Mr. Triggs radiated happiness
+from the top of his shiny bald head, with its fringe of sandy-grey
+hair, to his square-toed boots that invariably emitted little squeaks
+of joy.  He wore a fringe of whiskers round his chubby face, otherwise
+he was clean-shaven, holding that beards were "messy" things.  He had
+what Patricia called "crinkly" eyes, that is to say each time he smiled
+there seemed to radiate from them hundreds of little lines.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He always addressed Patricia as "me dear," and not infrequently brought
+her a box of chocolates, to the scandal of Mrs. Bonsor, who had once
+expostulated with him that that was not the way to treat her husband's
+secretary.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Tut, tut, 'Ettie," had been Mr. Triggs's response.  "She's a fine gal.
+If I was a bit younger I shouldn't be surprised if there was a second
+Mrs. Triggs."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Father!" Mrs. Bonsor had expostulated in horror.  "Remember that she
+is Arthur's secretary."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Triggs had almost choked with laughter; mirth invariably seemed to
+interfere with his respiration and ended in violent and wheezy
+coughings and gaspings.  Had Mrs. Bonsor known that he repeated the
+conversation to Patricia, she would have been mortified almost to the
+point of discharging her husband's secretary.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You see, me dear," Mr. Triggs had once said to Patricia, "'Ettie's so
+busy bothering about aitches that she's got time for nothing else.  She
+ain't exactly proud of her old father," he had added shrewdly, "but she
+finds 'is brass a bit useful."  Mr. Triggs was under no delusion as to
+his daughter's attitude towards him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+One day he had asked Patricia rather suddenly, "Why don't you get
+married, me dear?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia had started and looked up at him quickly.  "Married, me, Mr.
+Triggs?  Oh!  I suppose for one thing nobody wants me, and for another
+I'm not in love."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Triggs had pondered a little over this.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's right, me dear!" he said at length.  "Never you marry except
+you feel you can't 'elp it, then you'll know it's the right one.  Don't
+you marry a chap because he's got a lot of brass.  You marry for the
+same reason that me and my missis married, because we felt we couldn't
+do without each other," and the old man's voice grew husky.  "You
+wouldn't believe it, me dear, 'ow I miss 'er, though she's been dead
+eight years next May."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia had been deeply touched and, not knowing what to say, had
+stretched out her hand to the old man, who took and held it for a
+moment in his.  As she drew her hand away she felt a tear splash upon
+it, and it was not her own.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ever hear that song 'My Old Dutch'?" he asked after a lengthy silence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia nodded.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I used to sing it to 'er&mdash;God bless my soul! what an old fool I'm
+gettin', talkin' to you in this way.  Now I must be gettin' off.  Lor!
+what would 'Ettie say if she knew?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+But Mrs. Bonsor did not know.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap03"></A>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER III
+</H3>
+
+<H4 ALIGN="center">
+THE ADVENTURE AT THE QUADRANT GRILL-ROOM
+</H4>
+
+<P>
+That evening as Patricia looked in at the lounge on the way to her
+room, she found it unusually crowded.  On a normal day her appearance
+would scarcely have been noticed; but this evening it was the signal
+for a sudden cessation in the buzz of conversation, and all eyes were
+upon her.  For a moment she stood in the doorway and then, with a nod
+and a smile, she turned and proceeded upstairs, conscious of the
+whispering that broke out as soon as her back was turned.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As she stood before the mirror, wondering what she should wear for the
+night's adventure, she recalled a remark of Miss Wangle's that no
+really nice-minded woman ever dressed in black and white unless she had
+some ulterior motive.  Upon the subject of sex-attraction Miss Wangle
+posed as an authority, and hinted darkly at things that thrilled Miss
+Sikkum to ecstatic giggles, and Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe to pianissimo
+moans of anguish that such things could be.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+With great deliberation Patricia selected a black charmeuse costume
+that Miss Wangle had already confided to the whole of Galvin House was
+at least two and a half inches too short; but as Patricia had explained
+to Mrs. Hamilton, if you possess exquisitely fitting patent boots that
+come high up the leg, it's a sin for the skirt to be too long.  She
+selected a black velvet hat with a large white water-lily on the upper
+brim.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You look bad enough for a vicar's daughter," she said, surveying
+herself in the glass as she fastened a bunch of red carnations in her
+belt.  "White at the wrists and on the hat, yes, it looks most
+improper.  I wonder what the major-man will think?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Swift movements, deft touches, earnest scrutiny followed one another.
+Patricia was an artist in dress.  Finally, when her gold wristlet watch
+had been fastened over a white glove she subjected herself to a final
+and exhaustive examination.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now, Patricia!"&mdash;it had become with her a habit to address her
+reflection in the mirror&mdash;"shall we carry an umbrella, or shall we
+not?"  For a few moments she regarded herself quizzically, then finally
+announced, "No: we will not.  An umbrella suggests a bus, or the tube,
+and when a girl goes out with a major in the British Army, she goes in
+a taxi.  No, we will not carry an umbrella."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She still lingered in front of the mirror, looking at herself with
+obvious approval.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, Patricia! you are looking quite nice.  Your eyes are violeter,
+your hair more sunsetty and your lips redder than usual, and, yes, your
+face generally looks happier."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When she entered the lounge it was twenty minutes to eight and,
+although dinner was at seven-thirty, the room was full.  Everybody
+stared at her as with flushed cheeks she walked to the centre of the
+room.  Then suddenly turning to Miss Wangle, she said, "Do you think I
+shall do, Miss Wangle, or do I look too wicked for a major?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Wangle merely stared.  Mrs. Hamilton smiled and Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe looked sympathetically at Miss Wangle.  Mr. Bolton
+laughed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wish I was a major, Miss Brent," he remarked, at which Patricia
+turned to him and made an elaborate curtsy.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That girl will come to a bad end," remarked Miss Wangle with
+conviction to Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe, as with a smile over her shoulder
+Patricia made a dramatic exit.  She had noticed, however, that Miss
+Wangle and Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe were in hats and jackets.  They, too,
+were apparently going out, although she had not heard them tell Mrs.
+Craske-Morton so.  Mr. Bolton also had his hat in his hand.  During the
+day Patricia had thought out very carefully the part she had set
+herself to play.  If she were going to meet her fiancé back from the
+Front, she must appear radiantly happy, vide conventional opinion.  But
+she had admonished her reflection in the mirror, "You mustn't overdo
+it.  Women, especially tabbies, are very acute."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It had been Patricia's intention to go by bus but at the entrance of
+the lounge she saw Gustave who ingratiatingly enquired, "Taxi, mees?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+With a smile she nodded her head, and Gustave disappeared.  "There goes
+another two shillings.  Oh, bother Major Brown!  Soldiers are costly
+luxuries," she muttered under her breath.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A moment after Gustave reappeared with the intimation that the taxi was
+at the door.  A group of her fellow-guests gathered in the hall to see
+her off.  Patricia thought their attitude more appropriate to a wedding
+than the fact that one of their fellow-boarders was going out to
+dinner.  "It is clear," she thought, "that Patricia Brent, man-catcher,
+is a much more important person than is Patricia Brent, inveterate
+spinster."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She noticed that there was a second taxi at the door, and while her own
+driver was "winding-up" his machine, which took some little time, the
+other taxi got off in front.  She had seen get into it Miss Wangle,
+Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe, and Mr. Bolton.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As the taxi sped eastward, Patricia began to speculate as to what she
+really intended doing.  She had no appointment, she was in a taxi which
+would cost her two shillings at least, and she had given the address of
+the Quadrant Grill-room.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She was still considering what she should do when the taxi drew up.
+Fate and the taxi driver had decided the matter between them, and
+Patricia determined to go through with it and disappoint neither.
+Having paid the man and tipped him handsomely, she descended the stairs
+to the Grill-room.  She had no idea of what it cost to dine at the
+Quadrant; but remembered with a comfortable feeling that she had some
+two pounds upon her.  With moderation, she decided, it might be
+possible to get a meal for that sum without attracting the adverse
+criticism of the staff.  It had not struck her that it might appear
+strange for a girl to dine alone at such a restaurant as the Quadrant,
+and that she was laying herself open to criticism.  She was too excited
+at this new adventure into which she had been precipitated for careful
+reasoning.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As she descended the stairs she caught a glimpse of herself in a
+mirror.  She started.  Surely that could not be Patricia Brent,
+secretary to a rising politician, that stylish-looking girl in black,
+with a large bunch of carnations.  That red-haired creature with
+sparkling eyes and a colour that seemed to have caught the reflection
+of the carnations in her belt!
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She entered the lounge at the foot of the stairs with increased
+confidence, and she was conscious that several men turned to look at
+her with interest.  Then suddenly the bottom fell out of her world.
+There, standing in the vestibule, were Miss Wangle, Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe, and Mr. Bolton.  In a flash she saw it all.  They had
+come to spy upon her.  They would find her out, and the whole
+humiliating story would probably have to be told.  Thoughts seemed to
+spurt through her mind.  What was she to do?  It was too late to
+retreat.  Miss Wangle had already fixed her with a stony stare through
+her lorgnettes, which she carried only on special occasions.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia was conscious of bowing and smiling sweetly.  Some
+sub-conscious power seemed to take possession of her.  Still wondering
+what she should do, she found herself walking head in the air and
+perfectly composed, in the direction of the Grill-room.  She was
+conscious of being followed by Miss Wangle and her party.  As Patricia
+rounded the glass screen a superintendent came up and enquired if she
+had a table.  She heard a voice that seemed like and yet unlike her own
+answer, "Yes, thank you," and she passed on looking from right to left
+as if in search of someone, unconscious of the many glances cast in her
+direction.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When about half-way up the long room, just past the bandstand, the
+terrible thought came to her of a possible humiliating retreat.  What
+was she to do?  Why was she there?  What were her plans?  She looked
+about her, hoping that she did not appear so frightened as she felt.
+She was conscious of the gaze of a man seated at a table a few yards
+off.  He was fair and in khaki.  That was all she knew.  Yes, he was
+looking at her intently.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, that table won't do!  It is too near to the band."  It was Miss
+Wangle's voice behind her.  Without a moment's hesitation her
+sub-conscious self once more took possession of Patricia, and she
+marched straight up to the fair-haired man in khaki and in a voice loud
+enough for Miss Wangle and her party to hear cried:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Hullo! so here you are, I thought I should never find you."  Then as
+he rose she murmured under her breath, "Please play up to me, I'm in an
+awful hole.  I'll explain presently."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Without a moment's hesitation the man replied, "You're very late.  I
+waited for you a long time outside, then I gave you up."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+With a look of gratitude and a sigh of content, Patricia sank down into
+the chair a waiter had placed for her.  If there had been no chair, she
+would have fallen to the floor, her legs refusing further to support
+her body.  She was trembling all over.  Miss Wangle had selected the
+next table.  Patricia was conscious of hoping that somewhere in the
+next world Miss Wangle's sufferings would transcend those of Dives as a
+hundred to one.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As she was pulling off her gloves her companion held a low-toned
+colloquy with the waiter.  She stole a glance at him.  What must he be
+thinking?  How had he classified her?  Her heart was pounding against
+her ribs as if determined to burst through.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Suddenly she remembered that the others were watching and, leaning upon
+the table, she said:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Please pretend to be very pleased to see me.  We must talk a lot.  You
+know&mdash;you know&mdash;" then she turned aside in confusion; but with an
+effort she said, "You&mdash;you are supposed to be my fiancé, and you've
+just come back from France, and&mdash;and&mdash;&mdash;  Oh! what are you thinking of
+me?  Please&mdash;please&mdash;&mdash;" she broke off.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Very gravely and with smiling eyes he replied, "I quite understand.
+Please don't worry.  Something has happened, and if I can do anything
+to help, you have only to tell me.  My name is Bowen, and I'm just back
+from France."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are you a major?" enquired Patricia, to whom stars and crowns meant
+nothing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm afraid I'm a lieutenant-colonel," he replied, "on the Staff."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh! what a pity," said Patricia, "I said you were a major."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Couldn't you say I've been promoted?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia clapped her hands.  "Oh! how splendid!  Of course!  You see I
+said that you were Major Brown, I can easily tell them that they
+misunderstood and that it was Major Bowen.  They are such awful cats,
+and if they found out I should have to leave.  You see that's some of
+them at the next table there.  That's Miss Wangle with the lorgnettes
+and the other woman is Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe, who is her echo, and the
+man is Mr. Bolton.  He's nothing in particular."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I see," said Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And&mdash;and&mdash;of course you've got to pretend to be most awfully glad to
+see me.  You see we haven't met for a long time and&mdash;and&mdash;we're
+engaged."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I quite understand," was the reply.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then suddenly Patricia caught his eye and saw the smile in it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, how dreadful!" she cried.  "Of course you don't know anything
+about it.  I'm talking like a schoolgirl.  You see my name's Patricia,
+Patricia Brent," and then she plunged into the whole story, telling him
+frankly of her escapade.  He was strangely easy to talk to.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And&mdash;and&mdash;" she concluded, "what do you think of me?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think I'd sooner not tell you just now," he smiled.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is it as bad as that," she enquired.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then suddenly the smile faded from his face and he leaned across to
+her, saying:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Miss Brent&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm afraid you must call me Patricia," she interrupted with a comical
+look, "in case they overhear.  It seems rather sudden, doesn't it, and
+I shall have to call you&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Peter," he said.  He had nice eyes Patricia decided.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Er&mdash;er&mdash;Peter," she made a dash at the name.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bowen sat back in his chair and laughed.  Miss Wangle fixed upon him a
+stare through her lorgnettes, not an unfavourable stare, she was
+greatly impressed by his rank and red tabs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+After that the ice seemed broken and Patricia and her "fiancé" chatted
+merrily together, greatly impressing Patricia's fellow-boarders.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bowen was a good talker and a sympathetic listener and, above all, his
+attitude had in it that deference which put Patricia entirely at her
+ease.  She told him all there was to tell about herself and he, in
+return, explained that he came of an army family, and had been sent out
+to France soon after Mons.  He was then a captain in the Yeomanry.  He
+was wounded, promoted, and later received the D.S.O. and M.C.  He had
+now been brought back to England and attached to the General Staff.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now I think you know all that is necessary to know about your fiancé,"
+he had concluded.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia laughed.  "Oh, by the way," she said, "you have never given me
+an engagement ring.  Please don't forget that.  They asked me where my
+ring was, and I told them I didn't care about rings, as they were
+badges of servitude.  You see it is quite possible that Miss Wangle
+will come over to us presently.  She's just that sort, and she might
+ask awkward questions, that is why I am telling you all about myself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll remember," said Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm glad you're a D.S.O., though," she went on, half to herself,
+"that's sure to interest them, and it's nice to think you're more than
+a major.  Miss Wangle and Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe are most worldly-minded.
+Of course it would have been nicer had you been a field-marshal; but I
+suppose you couldn't be promoted from a major to a field-marshal in the
+course of a few days, could you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, it's not usual," he confessed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When the meal was over Bowen looked at his watch.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm afraid it's too late for a show, it's a quarter to ten."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A quarter to ten!" cried Patricia.  "How the time has flown.  I shall
+have to be going home."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He noticed preparations for a move at the Wangle table.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, please, don't hurry!  Let's go upstairs and sit and smoke for a
+little time."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you think I ought," enquired Patricia critically, her head on one
+side.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well," replied Bowen, "I think that you might safely do so as we are
+engaged," and that settled it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They went upstairs, and it was a quarter to eleven before Patricia
+finally decided that she must make a move.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you know," she said as she rose, "I am afraid I have enjoyed this
+most awfully; but oh! to-morrow morning."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Shall you be tired?" he enquired.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Tired!" she queried, "I shall be hot with shame.  I shall not dare to
+look at myself in the glass.  I&mdash;I shall give myself a most awful time.
+For days I shall live in torture.  You see I'm excited now
+and&mdash;and&mdash;you seem so nice, and you've been so awfully kind; but when I
+get alone, then I shall start wondering what was in your mind, what you
+have been thinking of me, and&mdash;and&mdash;oh! it will be awful.  No; I'll
+come with you while you get your hat.  I daren't be left alone.  It
+might come on then and&mdash;and I should probably bolt.  Of course I shall
+have to ask you to see me home, if you will, because&mdash;because&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm your fiancé," he smiled.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ummm," she nodded.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Both were silent as they sped along westward in the taxi, neither
+seeming to wish to break the spell.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Thinking?" enquired Bowen at length, as they passed the Marble Arch.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I was thinking how perfectly sweet you've been," replied Patricia
+gravely.  "You have understood everything and&mdash;and&mdash;you see I was so
+much at your mercy.  Shall I tell you what I was thinking?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Please do."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It sounds horribly sentimental."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Never mind," he replied.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I was thinking that your mother would like to know that you had
+done what you have done to-night.  And now, please, tell me how much my
+dinner was."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Your dinner!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, <I>ple-e-e-e-ase</I>," she emphasised the "please."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You insist?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And then Patricia did a strange thing.  She placed her hand upon
+Bowen's and pressed it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Please go on understanding," she said, and he told her how much the
+dinner was and took the money from her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"May I pay for the taxi?" he enquired comically.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+For a moment she paused and then replied, "Yes, I think you may do
+that, and now here we are," as the taxi drew up, "and thank you very
+much indeed, and good-bye."  They were standing on the pavement outside
+Galvin House.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Good-bye," he enquired.  "Do you really mean it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, <I>ple-e-e-ase</I>," again she emphasised the "please."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Patricia," he said in a serious tone, as the door flew open and
+Gustave appeared silhouetted against the light, "don't you think that
+sometimes we ought to think of the other fellow?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I shall always think of the other fellow," and with a pressure of the
+hand, Patricia ran up the steps and disappeared into the hall, the door
+closing behind her.  Bowen turned slowly and re-entered the taxi.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where to, sir?" enquired the man.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, to hell!" burst out Bowen savagely.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, sir; but wot about my petrol?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Your petrol?  Oh!  I see," Bowen laughed.  "Well! the Quadrant then."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In the hall Patricia hesitated.  Should she go into the lounge, where
+she was sure Galvin House would be gathered in full force, or should
+she go straight to bed?  Miss Wangle decided the matter by appearing at
+the door of the lounge.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh! here you are, Miss Brent; we thought you had eloped."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Wasn't it strange we should see you to-night?" lisped Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe, who had followed Miss Wangle.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia surveyed Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe with calculating calmness.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If two people go to the same Grill-room at the same time on the same
+evening, it would be strange if they did not see each other.  Don't you
+think so, Miss Wangle?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Did you say you were going there?" lisped Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe, coming
+to Miss Wangle's assistance.  "We forgot."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, do come in, Miss Brent!"  It was Mrs. Craske-Morton who spoke.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia entered the lounge and found, as she had anticipated, the
+whole establishment collected.  Not one was missing.  Even Gustave
+fluttered about from place to place, showing an unwonted desire to tidy
+up.  Patricia was conscious that her advent had interrupted a
+conversation of absorbing interest, furthermore that she herself had
+been the subject of that conversation.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Miss Wangle has been telling us all about your fiancé."  It was Miss
+Sikkum who spoke.  "Fancy your saying he was a major when he's a Staff
+lieutenant-colonel."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh!" replied Patricia nonchalantly, as she pulled off her gloves,
+"they've been altering him.  They always do that in the Army.  You get
+engaged to a captain and you find you have to marry a general.  It's so
+stupid.  It's like buying a kitten and getting a kangaroo-pup sent
+home."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But aren't you pleased?" enquired Mrs. Craske-Morton, at a loss to
+understand Patricia's mood.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No!" snapped Patricia, who was already feeling the reaction.  "It's
+like being engaged to a chameleon, or a quick-change artist.  They've
+made him a 'R.S.O.' as well."  Under her lashes Patricia saw, with keen
+appreciation, the quick glances that were exchanged.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You mean a D.S.O., Distinguished Service Order," explained Mr. Bolton.
+"An R.S.O. is er&mdash;er&mdash;something you put on letters."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is it?" enquired Patricia innocently, "I'm so stupid at remembering
+such things."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He was wearing the ribbon of the Military Cross, too," bubbled Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Was he?"  Patricia was afraid of overdoing the pose of innocence she
+had adopted.  "What a nuisance."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A nuisance!"  There was surprised impatience in Miss Wangle's voice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia turned to her sweetly.  "Yes, Miss Wangle.  It gives me such a
+lot to remember.  Now let me see."  She proceeded to tick off each word
+upon her fingers.  "He's a Lieutenant-Colonel Peter Bowen, D.S.O., M.C.
+Is that right?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Bowen," almost shrieked Miss Wangle.  "You said Brown."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Did I?  I'm awfully sorry.  My memory's getting worse than ever."
+Then a wave of mischief took possession of her.  "Do you know when I
+went up to him to-night I hadn't the remotest idea of what his
+Christian name was."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then what on earth do you call him then?" cried Mrs. Craske-Morton.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Call him?" queried Patricia, as she rose and gathered up her gloves.
+"Oh!" indifferently, "I generally call him 'Old Thing,'" and with that
+she left the lounge, conscious that she had scored a tactical victory.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap04"></A>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER IV
+</H3>
+
+<H4 ALIGN="center">
+THE MADNESS OF LORD PETER BOWEN
+</H4>
+
+<P>
+When Patricia awakened the next morning, it was with the feeling that
+she had suffered some terrible disappointment.  As a child she
+remembered experiencing the same sensation on the morning after some
+tragedy that had resulted in her crying herself to sleep.  She opened
+her eyes and was conscious that her lashes were wet with tears.
+Suddenly the memory of the previous night's adventure came back to her
+with a rush and, with an angry dab of the bedclothes, she wiped her
+eyes, just as the maid entered with the cup of early-morning tea she
+had specially ordered.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+With inspiration she decided to breakfast in bed.  She could not face a
+whole table of wide-eyed interrogation.  "Oh, the cats!" she muttered
+under her breath.  "I hate women!"  Later she slipped out of the house
+unobserved, with what she described to herself as a "morning after the
+party" feeling.  She was puzzled to account for the tears.  What had
+she been dreaming of to make her cry?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Every time the thought of her adventure presented itself, she put it
+resolutely aside.  She was angry with herself, angry with the world,
+angry with one Lieutenant-Colonel Peter Bowen.  Why, she could not have
+explained.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, bother!" she exclaimed, as she made a fourth correction in the
+same letter.  "Going out is evidently not good for you, Patricia."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She spent the day alternately in wondering what Bowen was thinking of
+her, and deciding that he was not thinking of her at all.  Finally,
+with a feeling of hot shame, she remembered to what thoughts she had
+laid herself open.  Her one consolation was that she would never see
+him again.  Then, woman-like, she wondered whether he would make an
+effort to see her.  Would he be content with his dismissal?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+For the first time during their association, the rising politician was
+conscious that his secretary was anxious to get off sharp to time.  At
+five minutes to five she resolutely put aside her notebook, and banged
+the cover on to her typewriter.  Mr. Bonsor looked up at this unwonted
+energy and punctuality on Patricia's part, and with a tactful interest
+in the affairs of others that he was endeavouring to cultivate for
+political purposes, he enquired:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Going out?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," snapped Patricia, "I'm going home."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Bonsor raised his eyebrows in astonishment.  He was a mild-mannered
+man who had learned the value of silence when faced by certain phases
+of feminine psychological phenomena.  He therefore made no comment; but
+he watched his secretary curiously as she swiftly left the room.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Jabbing the pins into her hat and throwing herself into her coat,
+Patricia was walking down the steps of the rising politician's house in
+Eaton Square as the clock struck five.  She walked quickly in the
+direction of Sloane Square Railway Station.  Suddenly she slackened her
+speed.  Why was she hurrying home?  She felt herself blushing hotly,
+and became furiously angry as if discovered in some humiliating act.
+Then with one of those odd emotional changes characteristic of her, she
+smiled.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Patricia Brent," she murmured, "I think a little walk won't do you any
+harm," and she strolled slowly up Sloane Street and across the Park to
+Bayswater.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Her hand trembled as she put the key in the door and opened it.  She
+looked swiftly in the direction of the letter-rack; but her eyes were
+arrested by two boxes, one very large and obviously from a florist.  A
+strange excitement seized her.  "Were they&mdash;&mdash;?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At that moment Miss Sikkum came out of the lounge simpering.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, Miss Brent! have you seen your beautiful presents?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then Patricia knew, and she became angry with herself on finding how
+extremely happy she was.  Glancing almost indifferently at the labels
+she proceeded to walk upstairs.  Miss Sikkum looked at her in amazement.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But aren't you going to open them?" she blurted out.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh! presently," said Patricia in an off-hand way, "I had no idea it
+was so late," and she ran upstairs, leaving Miss Sikkum gazing after
+her in petrified astonishment.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+That evening Patricia took more than usual pains with her toilette.
+Had she paused to ask herself why, she would have been angry.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When she came downstairs, the other boarders were seated at the table,
+all expectantly awaiting her entrance.  On the table, in the front of
+her chair, were the two boxes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I had your presents brought in here, Miss Brent," explained Mrs.
+Craske-Morton.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh!  I had forgotten all about them," said Patricia indifferently, "I
+suppose I had better open them," which she proceeded to do.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The smaller box contained chocolates, as Mr. Bolton put it, "evidently
+bought by the hundred-weight."  The larger of the boxes was filled with
+an enormous spray-bunch of white and red carnations, tied with green
+silk ribbon, and on the top of each box was a card, "With love from
+Peter."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia's cheeks burned.  She was angry, she told herself, yet there
+was a singing in her heart and a light in her eyes that oddly belied
+her.  He had not forgotten!  He had dared to disobey her injunction;
+for, she told herself, "good-bye" clearly forbade the sending of
+flowers and chocolates.  She was unconscious that every eye was upon
+her, and the smile with which she regarded now the flowers, now the
+chocolates, was self-revelatory.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe glanced significantly at Miss Wangle, who,
+however, was too occupied in watching Patricia with hawk-like
+intentness to be conscious of anything but the quarry.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Suddenly Patricia remembered, and her face changed.  The flowers faded,
+the chocolates lost their sweetness and the smile vanished.  The parted
+lips set in a firm but mobile line.  What had before been a tribute now
+became in her eyes an insult.  Men sent chocolates and flowers to&mdash;to
+"those women"!  If he respected her he would have done as she commanded
+him, instead of which he had sent her presents.  Oh! it was intolerable.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If I sent flowers and chocolates to a lady friend," said Mr. Bolton,
+"I should expect her to look happier than you do, Miss Brent."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+With an effort Patricia gathered herself together and with a forced
+smile replied, "Ah!  Mr. Bolton, but you are different," which seemed
+to please Mr. Bolton mightily.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She was conscious that everyone was looking at her in surprise not
+unmixed with disapproval.  She was aware that her attitude was not the
+conventional pose of the happily-engaged girl.  The situation was
+strange.  Even Mr. Cordal was bestowing upon her a portion of his
+attention.  It is true that he was eating curry with a spoon, which
+required less accuracy than something necessitating a knife and fork;
+still at meal times it was unusual of him to be conscious even of the
+existence of his fellow-boarders.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was Gustave who relieved the situation by handing to Patricia a
+telegram on the little tray where the silver had long since given up
+the unequal struggle with the base metal beneath.  Patricia with
+assumed indifference laid it beside her plate.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The boy ees waiting, mees," insinuated Gustave.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia tore open the envelope and read: "May I come and see you this
+evening dont say no peter."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia was conscious of her flushed face and she felt irritated at
+her own weakness.  With a murmured apology to Mrs. Morton she rose from
+the table and went into the lounge where she wrote the reply: "Regret
+impossible remember your promise," then she paused.  She did not want
+to sign her full name, she could not sign her Christian name she
+decided, so she compromised by using initials only, "P.B."  She took
+the telegram to the door herself, knowing that otherwise poor Gustave's
+life would be a misery at the hands of Miss Wangle, Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe and the others.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why had she given the boy sixpence?" she asked herself as she slowly
+returned to the dining-room.  Telegraph boys were paid.  It was
+ridiculous to tip them, especially when they brought undesirable
+messages.  "Was the message undesirable?" someone within seemed to
+question.  Of course it was, and she was very angry with Bowen for not
+doing as she had commanded him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When Patricia returned to the table and proceeded with the meal, she
+was conscious of the atmosphere of expectancy around her.  Everybody
+wanted to know what was in the telegram.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At last Miss Wangle enquired, "No bad news I hope, Miss Brent."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia looked up and fixed Miss Wangle with a deliberate stare, which
+she meant to be rude.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"None, Miss Wangle, thank you," she replied coldly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The dinner proceeded until the sweet was being served, when Gustave
+approached her once more.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are wanted, mees, on the telephone, please," he said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia was conscious once more of crimsoning as she turned to
+Gustave.  "Please say that I'm engaged," she said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Gustave left the dining-room.  Everybody watched the door in a fever of
+expectancy.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Two minutes later Gustave reappeared and, walking softly up to
+Patricia's chair, whispered in a voice that could be clearly heard by
+everyone, "It ees Colonel Baun, mees.  He wish to speak to you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Tell him I'm at dinner," replied Patricia calmly.  She could literally
+hear the gasp that went round the table.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But, Miss Brent," began Mrs. Craske-Morton.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia turned and looked straight into Mrs. Craske-Morton's eyes
+interrogatingly.  Gustave hesitated.  Mrs. Craske-Morton collapsed.
+Miss Wangle and Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe exchanged meaning glances.  Little
+Mrs. Hamilton looked concerned, almost a little sad.  Patricia turned
+to Gustave.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You heard, Gustave?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, mees," replied Gustave and, turning reluctantly towards the door,
+he disappeared.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was something in Patricia's demeanour that made it clear she
+would resent any comment on her action, and the meal continued in
+silence.  Mr. Bolton made some feeble endeavours to lighten the
+atmosphere; but he was not successful.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In the lounge a quarter of an hour later, Gustave once more approached
+Patricia, this time with a note.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The boy ees waiting, mees," he announced.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia tore open the envelope and read:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"DEAR PATRICIA,
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Won't you let me see you?  Please remember that even the under-dog has
+his rights.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yours ever,
+"PETER."<BR>
+</P>
+
+<P>
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There is no answer, Gustave," said Patricia, and Gustave left the room
+disconsolately.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Half an hour later Gustave returned once more.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+On his tray were three telegrams.  Patricia looked about her wildly.
+"Had the man suddenly gone mad?" she asked herself.  "Tell the boy not
+to wait, Gustave," she said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There ees three boys, mees."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The atmosphere was electrical.  Mr. Bolton laughed, then stopped
+suddenly.  Miss Sikkum simpered.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia turned to Gustave with a calmness that was not reflected in
+her cheeks.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Tell the three boys not to wait, Gustave."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, mees!"  Gustave slowly walked to the door.  It was clear that he
+could not reconcile with his standard of ethics the allowing of three
+telegrams to remain unopened, and to dismiss three boys without knowing
+whether or no there really were replies.  The same feeling was
+reflected in the faces of Patricia's fellow-boarders.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Miss Brent must be losing a lot of relatives, or coming into a lot of
+fortunes," remarked Mr. Bolton to Mrs. Hamilton.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia preserved an outward calm she was far from feeling.  She rose
+and went up to her room to discover from the three orange envelopes
+what was the latest phase of Colonel Bowen's madness.  Seated on her
+bed she opened the telegrams.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The first read:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Will you go motoring with me on Sunday peter."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+No, she would do nothing of the kind.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The second said:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If I have done anything to offend you please tell me and forgive me
+peter."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Of course he had done nothing, and it was all very absurd.  Why was he
+behaving like a schoolboy?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The third was longer.  It ran:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I so enjoyed last night it was the most delightful evening I have
+spent for many a day please do not be too hard upon me peter."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+This was a tactical error.  It brought back to Patricia the whole
+incident.  It was utter folly to have placed herself in such an
+impossible position.  Obviously Bowen knew nothing of women, or he
+would not have made such a blunder as to remind her of what took place
+on the previous night, unless&mdash;unless&mdash;&mdash;  She hardly dare breathe the
+thought to herself.  What if he thought her different from what she
+actually was?  Could he confuse her with those&mdash;&mdash;  It was impossible!
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She was angry; angry with him, angry with herself, angry with the
+Quadrant Grill-room; but angriest of all with Galvin House, which had
+precipitated her into this adventure.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Why did silly women expect every girl to marry?  Why was it assumed
+because a woman did not marry that no one wanted to marry her?
+Patricia regarded herself in the looking-glass.  Was she really the
+sort of girl who might be taken for an inveterate old maid?  Her hands
+and feet were small.  Her ankles well-shaped.  Her figure had been
+praised, even by women.  Her hair was a natural red-auburn.  Her
+features regular, her mouth mobile, well-shaped with very red lips.
+Her eyes a violet-blue with long dark lashes and eyebrows.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You're not so bad, Patricia Brent," she remarked as she turned from
+the glass.  "But you will probably be a secretary to the end of your
+days, drink cold weak tea, keep a cat and get hard and angular, skinny
+most likely.  You're just the sort that runs to skin and bone."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She was interrupted in her meditations by a knock at the door.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Come in," she called.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The door was softly opened and Mrs. Hamilton entered.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"May I come in, dear?" she enquired in an apologetic voice, as she
+stood on the threshold.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Come in!" cried Patricia, "why of course you may, you dear.  You can
+do anything you like with me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Hamilton was small and white and fragile, with a ray of sunlight
+in her soul.  She invariably dressed in grey, or blue-grey.  Everything
+she wore seemed to be as soft as her own expression.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I&mdash;I came up&mdash;I&mdash;I&mdash;hope it is not bad news.  I don't want to meddle
+in your affairs, my dear; but I am concerned.  If there is anything I
+can do, you will tell me, won't you?  You won't think me inquisitive,
+will you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why you dear, silly little thing, of course I don't.  Still it's just
+like your sweet self to come up and enquire.  It is only that
+ridiculous Colonel Bowen who is showering telegrams on me in this way,
+in order, I suppose, to benefit the revenue.  I think he has gone mad.
+Perhaps it's shell-shock, poor thing.  There will most likely be
+another shower before we go to bed.  Now we will go downstairs and stop
+those old pussies talking."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dear!" expostulated Mrs. Hamilton.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia laughed.  "Yes, aren't I getting acid and spinsterish?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As they walked downstairs Mrs. Hamilton said:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm so anxious to see him, my dear.  Miss Wangle says he is so
+distinguished-looking."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who?" enquired Patricia, with mock innocence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Colonel Bowen, dear."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh!  Yes, he's quite a decent-looking old thing, and he's given Galvin
+House something to talk about, hasn't he?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In the lounge Patricia soon became the centre of a group anxious for
+information; but no one was daring enough to put direct questions to
+her.  Mrs. Craske-Morton ventured a suggestion that Colonel Bowen might
+be coming to dine with Patricia, and that she hoped Miss Brent would
+let her know in good time, so that she might make special preparations.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia replied without enthusiasm.  None was better aware than she
+that had her fiancé turned out to be a private, Mrs. Craske-Morton
+would have been the last even to suggest that he should dine at Galvin
+House.  There would have been no question of special preparations.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+About ten o'clock Gustave entered and approached Patricia.  She groaned
+in spirit.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are wanted on the telephone, mees."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia thought she detected a note of reproach in his voice, as if he
+were conscious that a fellow-male was being badly treated.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Will you say that I'm engaged?" replied Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's Colonel Baun, mees."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+For a moment Patricia hesitated.  She was conscious that Galvin House
+was against her to a woman.  After all there were limits beyond which
+it would be unwise to go.  Galvin House had its standards, which had
+already been sorely tried.  Patricia felt rather than heard the
+whispered criticism passing between Miss Wangle and Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe.  Rising slowly with an air of reconciled martyrdom,
+Patricia went to the telephone at the end of the hall, followed by the
+smiling Gustave, who, like the rest of Galvin House, had found his
+sense of decorum sorely outraged by Patricia's conduct.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Hullo!" cried Patricia into the mouthpiece of the telephone, her heart
+thumping ridiculously.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Gustave walked tactfully away.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That you, Patricia?" came the reply.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia was conscious that all her anger had vanished.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, who is speaking?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Peter."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How are you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Did you ring me up to ask after my health?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was a laugh at the other end.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well!" enquired Patricia, who knew she was behaving like a schoolgirl.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Did you get my message?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm very angry."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Because you've made me ridiculous with your telegrams, messenger-boys,
+and telephoning."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"May I call?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm coming to-morrow night."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I shall be out."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then I'll wait until you return."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are you playing the game, do you think?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I must see you.  Expect me about nine."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I shall do nothing of the sort."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Please don't be angry, Patricia."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well! you mustn't come, then.  Thank you for the chocolates and
+flowers."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's all right.  Don't forget to-morrow at nine."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I tell you I shall be out."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Right-oh!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Good-bye!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Without waiting for a reply, Patricia hung up the receiver.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When she returned to the lounge her cheeks were flushed, and she was
+feeling absurdly happy.  Then a moment after she asked herself what it
+was to her whether he remembered or forgot her.  He was an entire
+stranger&mdash;or at least he ought to be.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Just as she was going up to her room for the night, another telegram
+arrived.  It contained three words: "Good night peter."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of all the ridiculous creatures!" she murmured, laughing in spite of
+herself.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap05"></A>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER V
+</H3>
+
+<H4 ALIGN="center">
+PATRICIA'S REVENGE
+</H4>
+
+<P>
+Galvin House dined at seven-thirty.  Miss Wangle had used all her arts
+in an endeavour to have the hour altered to eight-fifteen, or
+eight-thirty.  "It would add tone to the establishment," she had
+explained to Mrs. Craske-Morton.  "It is dreadfully suburban to dine at
+half-past seven."  Conscious of the views of the other guests, Mrs.
+Craske-Morton had held out, necessitating the bringing up of Miss
+Wangle's heavy artillery, the bishop, whose actual views Miss Wangle
+shrouded in a mist of words.  As far as could be gathered, the
+illustrious prelate held out very little hope of salvation for anyone
+who dined earlier than eight-thirty.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Just as Mrs. Craske-Morton was wavering, Mr. Bolton had floored Miss
+Wangle and her ecclesiastical relic with the simple question, "And
+who'll pay for the biscuits I shall have to eat to keep going until
+half-past eight?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+That had clinched the matter.  Galvin House continued to dine at the
+unfashionable hour of seven-thirty.  Miss Wangle had resigned herself
+to the inevitable, conscious that she had done her utmost for the
+social salvation of her fellow-guests, and mentally reproaching
+Providence for casting her lot with the Cordals and the Boltons, rather
+than with the De Veres and the Montmorencies.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Bolton confided to his fellow-boarders what he conceived to be the
+real cause of Mrs. Craske-Morton's decision.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She's afraid of what Miss Wangle would eat if left unfed for an extra
+hour," he had said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Wangle's appetite was like Dominie Sampson's favourite adjective,
+"prodigious."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+So it came about that on the Friday evening on which Colonel Peter
+Bowen had announced his intention of calling on Patricia, Galvin House,
+all unconscious of the event, sat down to its evening meal at its usual
+time, in its usual coats and blouses, with its usual vacuous smiles and
+small talk, and above all with its usual appetite&mdash;an appetite that had
+caused Mrs. Craske-Morton to bless the inauguration of food-control,
+and to pray devoutly to Providence for food-tickets.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Had anyone suggested to Patricia that she had dressed with more than
+usual care that evening, she would have denied it, she might even have
+been annoyed.  Her simple evening frock of black voile, unrelieved by
+any colour save a ribbon of St. Patrick's green that bound her hair,
+showed up the paleness of her skin and the redness of her lips.  At the
+last moment, as if under protest, she had pinned some of Bowen's
+carnations in her belt.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As she entered the dining-room, Miss Wangle and Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe
+exchanged significant glances.  Woman-like they sensed something
+unusual.  Galvin House did not usually dress for dinner.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Going out?" enquired Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe sweetly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Probably," was Patricia's laconic reply.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Soup had not been disposed of (it was soup on Mondays, Wednesdays, and
+Fridays; fish on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, and neither on
+Sundays at Galvin House) before Gustave entered with an enormous
+bouquet of crimson carnations.  It might almost be said that the
+carnations entered propelled by Gustave, as there was very little but
+Gustave's smiling face above and the ends of his legs below the screen
+of flowers.  Instinctively everybody looked at Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"For you, mees, with Colonel Baun's compliments."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Gustave stood irresolute, the crimson blooms cascading before him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You've forgotten the conservatory, Gustave," laughed Mr. Bolton.  It
+was always easy to identify the facetious from the serious Mr. Bolton;
+his jokes were always heralded by a laugh.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sir?" interrogated the literal-minded Gustave.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Never mind, Gustave.  Mr. Bolton was joking," said Mrs. Craske-Morton.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, madame."  Gustave smiled a mechanical smile: he overflowed with
+tact.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where will you have the flowers, Miss Brent?" enquired Mrs.
+Craske-Morton.  "They are exquisite."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Try the bath," suggested Mr. Bolton.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sir?" from Gustave.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was Alice, Gustave's assistant in the dining-room during meals, who
+created the diversion for which Patricia had been devoutly praying.  An
+affected little laugh from Miss Sikkum called attention to Alice,
+standing just inside the door, with an enormous white and gold box tied
+with bright green ribbon.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia regarded the girl in dismay.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Put them in the lounge, please," she said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are lucky, Miss Brent," giggled Miss Sikkum enviously.  "I wonder
+what's in the box."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A chest protector," Mr. Bolton's laugh rang out.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Really, Mr. Bolton!" from Mrs. Craske-Morton.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia wondered was she lucky?  Why should she be made ridiculous in
+this fashion?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I should say chocolates."  The suggestion came from Mr. Cordal through
+a mouthful of roast beef and Brussels sprouts.  Everyone turned to the
+speaker, whose gastronomic silence was one of the most cherished
+traditions of Galvin House.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He must have plenty of money," remarked Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe to Miss
+Wangle in a whisper, audible to all.  "Those flowers and chocolates
+must have cost a lot."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ten pounds."  The remark met a large Brussels sprout that Mr. Cordal
+was conveying to his mouth and summarily ejected it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As Mr. Cordal was something on the Stock Exchange (Mr. Bolton had once
+said he must be a "bear") he was, at Galvin House, the recognised
+authority upon all matters of finance.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Really, Mr. Cordal!" expostulated Mrs. Craske-Morton, rather outraged
+at this open discussion of Patricia's affairs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sure of it," was all Mr. Cordal vouchsafed as he shovelled in another
+mouthful.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You've been a goer in your time, Mr. Cordal," said Mr. Bolton.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Cordal grunted, which may have meant anything, but in all
+probability meant nothing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+For a quarter of an hour the inane conversation so characteristic of
+meal-times at Galvin House continued without interruption.  How
+Patricia hated it.  Was this all that life held for her?  Was she
+always to be a drudge to the Bonsors, a victim of the Wangles and a
+target for the Boltons of life?  It was to escape such drab existences
+that girls went on the stage, or worse; and why not?  She had only one
+life, so far as she knew, and here she was sacrificing it to the jungle
+people, as she called them.  Was there no escape?  What St. George
+would rescue her from this dragon of&mdash;&mdash;?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Colonel Baun, mees."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia looked up with a start from the apple tart with which she was
+trifling.  Gustave stood beside her, his face glowing in a way that
+hinted at a handsome tip.  He was all-unconscious that he had answered
+a very difficult question in a manner entirely unsatisfactory to
+Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I haf show him in the looaunge, mees.  He will wait."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia believed him.  Was ever man so persistent?  She saw through
+the move.  He had come an hour earlier to be sure of catching her
+before she went out.  Patricia was once more conscious of the
+ridiculous behaviour of her heart.  It thumped and pounded against her
+ribs as if determined to compromise her with the rest of the boarders.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Very well, Gustave, say we are at dinner."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, mees," and Gustave proceeded with his duties.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He's clever," was Patricia's inward comment.  "He's bought Gustave,
+and in an hour he'll have the whole blessed place against me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+If the effect upon Patricia of Gustave's announcement had been
+startling, that upon the rest of the company was galvanic.  Each felt
+aggrieved that proper notice had not been given of so auspicious an
+event.  There was a general feeling of resentment against Patricia for
+not having told them that she expected Bowen to call.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There were covert glances at their garments by the ladies, and among
+the men a consciousness that the clothes they were wearing were not
+those they had upstairs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Sikkum's playful fancy was with the Brixton "Paris model," which
+only that day she had taken to the cleaners; Miss Wangle was conscious
+that she had not hung herself with her full equipment of chains and
+accoutrements; Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe thought regretfully of the pale
+blue evening-gown upstairs, a garment that had followed the course of
+fashion for nearly a quarter of a century.  Mr. Bolton had doubts about
+his collar and his boots, whilst Mr. Cordal, with the aid of his napkin
+and some water from a drinking glass, strove to remove from his
+waistcoat reminiscences of bygone repasts.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The other members of the company all had something to regret.  Mr.
+Archibald Sefton, whose occupation was a secret between himself and
+Providence, was dubious about the creases in his trousers; Mrs. Barnes
+wondered if the gallant colonel would discover the ink she had that day
+applied to the seams of her dress.  Everyone was constrained and
+anxious to get to his or to her room for repairs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Did you know Colonel Bowen was coming?" enquired Mrs. Craske-Morton,
+quite at her ease in the knowledge that "something had told her" to put
+on her best black silk and the large cameo pendant that made her look
+like a wine-steward at a fashionable restaurant.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He said he might drop in; but he's so casual that I didn't think it
+worth mentioning," said Patricia, conscious that the reply was
+unanimously regarded as unconvincing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Having finished her coffee Patricia rose in a leisurely manner.  She
+was no sooner out of the door than a veritable stampede ensued.  Every
+one intended "just to slip upstairs for a moment," and each glared at
+the other on discovering that all seemed inspired by the same idea.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Craske-Morton went to her "boudoir" out of tactful consideration
+for the young lovers; Mrs. Hamilton went up to the drawing-room for the
+same reason.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia paused for a moment outside the door of the lounge.  She put
+her cool hands to her hot cheeks, wondering why her heart should show
+so little regard for her feelings.  She felt an impulse to run away and
+lock herself in her own room and cry "Go away!" to anyone who might
+knock.  She strove to work herself into a state of anger with Bowen for
+daring to come an hour before the time appointed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As she entered the lounge, Bowen sprang up and came towards her.  There
+was a spirit of boyish mischief lurking in his eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose," said Patricia as they shook hands, "you think this is very
+clever."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Please, Patricia, don't bully me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia laughed in spite of herself at the humility and appeal in his
+voice.  She was conscious that she was not behaving as she ought, or
+had intended to behave.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It seems an age since I saw you," he continued.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Forty-eight hours, to be exact," commented Patricia, forgetful of all
+the reproachful things she had intended to say.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You got the flowers?" as his eye fell on the carnations which Gustave
+had placed in a large bowl.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, thank you very much indeed, they're exquisite.  They made Miss
+Sikkum quite envious."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who's Miss Sikkum?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Time, in all probability, will show," replied Patricia, seating
+herself on a settee.  Bowen drew up a chair and sat opposite to her.
+She liked him for that.  Had he sat beside her, she told herself, she
+would have hated him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You're not angry with me, Patricia, are you?"  There was an anxious
+note in his voice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you appreciate that you've made me extremely ridiculous with your
+telegrams, messenger-boys, conservatories, and confectioner's-shops?
+Why did you do it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know," he confessed with unconscious gaucherie, "I simply
+couldn't get you out of my thoughts."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Which shows that you tried," commented Patricia, the lightness of her
+words contradicted by the blush that accompanied them.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The King's Regulations do not provide for Patricias," he replied, "and
+I had to try.  That is how I knew."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you think I'm a cormorant, as well as an abandoned person?" she
+demanded.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A cormorant?" queried Bowen, ignoring the second question.  "I don't
+understand."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Within twenty-four hours you have sent me enough chocolates to last
+for a couple of months."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Poor Patricia!" he laughed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You mustn't call me Patricia, Colonel Bowen," she said primly.  "What
+will people think?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What would they think if they heard the man you're engaged to call you
+Miss Brent?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We are not engaged," said Patricia hotly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We are," his eyes smiled into hers.  "I can bring all these people
+here to prove it on your own statement."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She bit her Up.  "Are you going to be mean?  Are you going to play the
+game?"  She awaited his reply with an anxiety she strove to disguise.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bowen looked straight into her eyes until they fell beneath his gaze.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm afraid I've got to be mean, Patricia," he said quietly.  "May we
+smoke?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As she took a cigarette from his case and he lighted it for her,
+Patricia found herself experiencing a new sensation.  Without apparent
+effort he had assumed control of the situation, and then with a
+masterfulness that she felt rather than acknowledged, had put the
+subject aside as if requiring no further comment.  This was a side of
+Bowen's character that she had not yet seen.  As she was debating with
+herself whether or no she liked it, the door opened, giving access to a
+stream of Galvin Houseites.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh!" gasped Patricia hysterically, "they're all dressed up, and it's
+in your honour."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What's that?" enquired Bowen, less mentally agile than Patricia, as he
+turned round to gaze at the string of paying guests that oozed into the
+room.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They've put on their best bibs and tuckers for you," she cried.  "Oh!
+please don't even smile, <I>ple-e-e-ase</I>!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The first to enter was Miss Wangle.  Although she had not changed her
+dress, it was obvious that she had taken considerable pains with her
+personal appearance.  On her fingers were more than the usual weight of
+rings; round her neck were flung a few additional chains; on her arms
+hung an extra bracelet or two and, as a final touch, she had added a
+fan to her equipment.  To Patricia's keen eyes it was clear that she
+had re-done her hair, and she carried her lorgnettes, things that in
+themselves betokened a ceremonial occasion.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Following Miss Wangle like an echo came Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe.  She had
+evidently taken her courage in both hands and donned the blue evening
+frock, to which she had added a pair of white gloves which reached
+barely to the elbow, although the frock ended just below her shoulders.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Wangle bowed graciously to Patricia, Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe followed
+suit.  They moved over to the extreme end of the room.  Mr. Cordal was
+the next arrival, closely followed by Mr. Bolton.  At the sight of Mr.
+Cordal Patricia started and bit her lower lip.  He had assumed a vivid
+blue tie, and had obviously changed his collar.  From the darker spots
+on his waistcoat and coat it was evident that he had subjected his
+clothes to a vigorous process of cleaning.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Bolton, on the other hand, had followed Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe's
+lead, and made a clean sweep.  He had assumed a black frock-coat; but
+had apparently not thought it worth while to change his brown tweed
+trousers, which hung about his boots in shapeless folds, as if
+conscious that they had no right there.  He, too, had donned a clean
+collar and, by way of adding to his splendour, had assumed a white
+satin necktie threaded through a "diamond" ring.  His thin dark hair
+was generously oiled and, as he passed over to the side of the room
+occupied by Miss Wangle and Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe, he left behind him a
+strong odour of verbena.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Barnes came next and, one by one, the other guests drifted in.
+All had assumed something in the nature of a wedding garment in honour
+of Patricia's fiancé.  Miss Sikkum had selected a pea-green satin
+blouse, which caused Bowen to screw his eyeglass vigorously into his
+eye and gaze at her in wonder.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you like them?" It was Patricia who broke the silence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+With a start Bowen turned to her.  "Er&mdash;er&mdash;they seem an er&mdash;awfully
+decent crowd."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia laughed.  "Yes, aren't they?  Dreadfully decent.  How would
+you like to live among them all?  Why they haven't the pluck to break a
+commandment among them."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bowen looked at Patricia in surprise.  "Really!" was the only remark he
+could think of.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And now I've shocked you!" cried Patricia.  "You must not think that I
+like people who break commandments.  I don't know exactly what I do
+mean.  Oh, here you are!" and she ran across as Mrs. Hamilton entered
+and drew her towards Bowen.  "Now I know what I meant.  This dear
+little creature has never broken a commandment, I wouldn't mind betting
+everything I have, and she has never been uncharitable to anyone who
+has.  Isn't that so?"  She turned to Mrs. Hamilton, who was regarding
+her in astonishment.  "Oh, I'm so sorry!  I'm quite mad to-night, you
+mustn't mind.  You see Colonel Bowen's mad and he makes me mad."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Turning to Bowen she introduced him to Mrs. Hamilton.  "This is my
+friend, Mrs. Hamilton." Then to Mrs. Hamilton.  "You know all about
+Colonel Bowen, don't you, dear?  He's the man who sends me
+conservatories and telegrams and boy-messengers and things."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Hamilton smiled up sweetly at Bowen, and held out her hand.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia glanced across at the group at the other end of the lounge.
+The scene reminded her of Napoleon on the <I>Bellerophon</I>.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Suddenly she had an idea.  It synchronised with the entry of Gustave,
+who stood just inside the door smiling inanely.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Call a taxi for Colonel Bowen, please, Gustave," she said coolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Gustave looked surprised, the group looked disappointed, Bowen looked
+at Patricia with a puzzled expression.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm sorry you're in a hurry," said Patricia, holding out her hand to
+Bowen.  "I'm busy also."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But&mdash;&mdash;" began Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh! don't trouble."  Patricia advanced, and he had perforce to retreat
+towards the door.  "See you again sometime.  Good-bye," and Bowen found
+himself in the hall.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Damn!" he muttered.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sir?" interrogated Gustave anxiously.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As Bowen was replying to Gustave in coin, Mrs. Craske-Morton appeared
+at the head of the stairs on her way down to the lounge after her
+tactful absence.  For a moment she hesitated in obvious surprise, then,
+with the air of a would-be traveller who hears the guard's whistle, she
+threw dignity aside and made for Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Colonel Bowen?" she interrogated anxiously.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bowen turned and bowed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am Mrs. Craske-Morton.  Miss Brent did not tell me that you were
+making so short a call, or I would&mdash;&mdash;"  Mrs. Craske-Morton's pause
+implied that nothing would have prevented her from hurrying down.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are very kind," murmured Bowen absently, not yet recovered from
+his unceremonious dismissal.  He was brought back to realities by Mrs.
+Craske-Morton expressing a hope that he would give her the pleasure of
+dining at Galvin House one evening.  "Shall we say Friday?" she
+continued without allowing Bowen time to reply, "and we will keep it as
+a delightful surprise for Miss Brent."  Mrs. Craske-Morton exposed her
+teeth and felt romantic.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When Bowen left Galvin House that evening he was pledged to give
+Patricia "a delightful surprise" on the following Friday.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+"That will teach them to pity me!" murmured Patricia that night as she
+brushed her hair with what seemed entirely unnecessary vigour.  She was
+conscious that she was the best-hated girl in Bayswater, as she
+recalled the angry and reproachful looks directed towards her by her
+fellow-guests after Bowen's departure.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In an adjoining room Miss Wangle, a black cap upon her head, was also
+engaged in brushing her hair with a gentleness foreign to most of her
+actions.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The cat!" she murmured as she lay it in its drawer, and then as she
+locked the drawer she repeated, "The cat!"
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap06"></A>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER VI
+</H3>
+
+<H4 ALIGN="center">
+THE INTERVENTION OF AUNT ADELAIDE
+</H4>
+
+<P>
+Sunday at Galvin House was a day of bodily rest but acute mental
+activity.  The day of God seemed to draw out the worst in everybody;
+all were in their best clothes and on their worst behaviour.  Mr.
+Cordal descended to breakfast in carpet slippers with fur tops.  Miss
+Wangle regarded this as a mark of disrespect towards the grand-niece of
+a bishop.  She would glare at Mr. Cordal's slippers as if convinced
+that the cloven hoof were inside.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Bolton sported a velvet smoking-jacket, white at the elbows, light
+grey trousers and a manner that seemed to say, "Ha! here's Sunday
+again, good!"  After breakfast he added a fez and a British cigar to
+his equipment, and retired to the lounge to read <I>Lloyd's News</I>.  Both
+the cigar and the newspaper lasted him throughout the day.  Somewhere
+at the back of his mind was the conviction that in smoking a cigar,
+which he disliked, he was making a fitting distinction between the
+Sabbath and week-days.  He went even further, for whereas on secular
+days he lit his inexpensive cigarettes with matches, on the Sabbath he
+used only fusees.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I love the smell of fusees," Miss Sikkum would simper, regardless of
+the fact that a hundred times before she had taken Galvin House into
+her confidence on the subject.  "I think they're so romantic."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia wondered if Mr. Bolton's fusee were an offering to heaven or
+to Miss Sikkum.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+On Sunday mornings Miss Wangle and Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe went to divine
+service at Westminster Abbey, and Mr. Cordal went to sleep in the
+lounge.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Barnes wandered aimlessly about, making anxious enquiry of
+everyone she encountered.  If it were cloudy, did they think it would
+rain?  If it rained, did they think it would clear up?  If it were
+fine, did they think it would last?  Mrs. Barnes was always going to do
+something that was contingent upon the weather.  Every Sunday she was
+going for a walk in the Park, or to church; but her constitutional
+indecision of character intervened.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Archibald Sefton, who showed the qualities of a landscape gardener
+in the way in which he arranged his thin fair hair to disguise the
+desert of baldness beneath, was always vigorous on Sundays.  He
+descended to the dining-room rubbing his hands in a manner suggestive
+of a Dickens Christmas.  After breakfast he walked in the Park, "to
+give the girls a treat," as Mr. Bolton had once expressed it, which had
+earned for him a stern rebuke from Miss Wangle.  In the afternoon Mr.
+Sefton returned to the Park, and in the evening yet again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Sefton had a secret that was slowly producing in him misanthropy.
+His nature was tropical and his courage arctic, which, coupled with his
+forty-five years, was a great obstacle to his happiness.  In dress he
+was a dandy, at heart he was a craven and, never daring, he was
+consumed with his own fire.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The other guests at Galvin House drifted in and out, said the same
+things, wore the same clothes, with occasional additions, had the same
+thoughts; whilst over all, as if to compose the picture, brooded the
+reek of cooking.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The atmosphere of Galvin House was English, the cooking was English,
+and the lack of culinary imagination also was English.  There were two
+and a half menus for the one o'clock Sunday dinner.  Roast mutton,
+onion sauce, cabbage, potatoes, fruit pie, and custard; alternated for
+four weeks with roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, cauliflower, roast
+potatoes, and lemon pudding.  Then came roast pork, apple sauce,
+potatoes, greens with stewed fruit and cheese afterwards.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The cuisine was in itself a calendar.  If your first Sunday were a
+roast-pork Sunday, you knew without mental effort on every roast-pork
+Sunday exactly how many months you had been there.  If for a moment you
+had forgotten the day, and found yourself toying with a herring at
+dinner, you knew it was a Tuesday, just as you knew it was Friday from
+the Scotch broth placed before you.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Nobody seemed to mind the dreary reiteration, because everybody was so
+occupied in keeping up appearances.  Sunday was the day of reckoning
+and retrospection.  "Were they getting full value for their money?" was
+the unuttered question.  There were whisperings and grumblings,
+sometimes complaints.  Then there was another aspect.  Each guest had
+to enquire if the expenditure were justified by income.  All these
+things, like the weekly mending, were kept for Sundays.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+By tea-time the atmosphere was one of unrest.  Mr. Sefton returned from
+the Park disappointed, Miss Sikkum from Sunday-school, breathless from
+her flight before some alleged admirer, Patricia from her walk,
+conscious of a dissatisfaction she could not define.  Mr. Cordal awoke
+unrefreshed, Mrs. Craske-Morton emerged from her "boudoir," where she
+balanced the week's accounts, convinced that ruin stared her in the
+face owing to the tonic qualities of Bayswater air, and Mr. Bolton
+emerged from <I>Lloyd's News</I> facetious.  Miss Wangle was acid, Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe ultra-forbearing, whilst Mrs. Barnes found it
+impossible to decide between a heart-cake and a rusk.  Only Mrs.
+Hamilton, at work upon her inevitable knitting, seemed human and
+content.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+On returning to Galvin House Patricia had formed a habit of
+instinctively casting her eyes in the direction of the letter-rack,
+beneath which was the table on which parcels were placed that they
+might be picked up as the various guests entered on their way to their
+rooms.  She took herself severely to task for this weakness, but in
+spite of her best efforts, her eyes would wander towards the table and
+letter-rack.  At last she had to take stern measures with herself and
+deliberately walk along the hall with her face turned to the left, that
+is to the side opposite from that of the letter-rack table.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+On the Sunday afternoon following her adventure at the Quadrant
+Grill-room, Patricia entered Galvin House, her head resolutely turned
+to the left, and ran into Gustave.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, mees!" he exclaimed, his gentle, cow-like face expressing pained
+surprise, rather than indignation.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Gustave was a Swiss, a French-Swiss, he was emphatic on this point.
+Patricia said he was Swiss wherever he wasn't French, and German
+wherever he wasn't Swiss and French.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am so sorry, Gustave," apologised Patricia.  "I wasn't looking where
+I was going."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Gustave smiled amiably, Patricia was a great favourite of his.  "There
+is a lady in the looaunge, Mees Brent, the same as you."  Gustave
+smiled broadly as if he had discovered some subtle joke in the
+duplication of Patricia's name.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, bother!" muttered Patricia to herself.  "Aunt Adelaide, imagine
+Aunt Adelaide on an afternoon like this."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She entered the lounge wearily, to find Miss Brent the centre of a
+group, the foremost in which were Mrs. Craske-Morton, Miss Wangle, and
+Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe.  Patricia groaned in spirit; she knew exactly
+what had been taking place, and now she would have to explain
+everything.  Could she explain?  Had she for one moment paused to think
+of Aunt Adelaide, no amount of frenzy or excitement would have prompted
+her to such an adventure.  Miss Brent would probe the mystery out of a
+ghost.  Material, practical, levelheaded, victorious, she would strip
+romance from a legend, or glamour from a myth.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As she entered the lounge, Patricia saw by the movement of Miss
+Wangle's lips that she was saying "Ah! here she is."  Miss Brent turned
+and regarded her niece with a long, non-committal stare.  Patricia
+walked over to her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Hullo, Aunt Adelaide!  Who would have thought of seeing you here."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Brent looked up at her, received the frigid kiss upon one cheek
+and returned it upon the other.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A peck for a peck," muttered Patricia to herself under her breath.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We've been talking about you," said Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe
+ingratiatingly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How strange," announced Patricia indifferently.  "Well, Aunt
+Adelaide," she continued, turning to Miss Brent, "this is an unexpected
+pleasure.  How is it you are dissipating in town?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I want to speak to you, Patricia.  Is there a quiet corner where we
+shall not be overheard?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Wangle started, Mrs. Craske-Morton rose hurriedly and made for the
+door.  Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe looked uncomfortable.  Miss Brent's
+directness was a thing dreaded by all who knew her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You had better come up to my room, Aunt Adelaide," said Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As she reached the door, Mrs. Craske-Morton turned.  "Oh!  Miss Brent,"
+she said, addressing Patricia, "would you not like to take your aunt
+into my boudoir?  It is entirely at your disposal."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Craske-Morton's "boudoir" was a small cupboard-like apartment in
+which she made up her accounts.  It was as much like a boudoir as a
+starveling mongrel is like an aristocratic chow.  Patricia smiled her
+thanks.  One of Patricia's great points was that she could smile an
+acknowledgment in a way that was little less than inspiration.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When they reached the "boudoir," Miss Brent sat down with a suddenness
+and an air of aggression that left Patricia in no doubt as to the
+nature of the talk she desired to have with her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Brent was a tall, angular woman, with spinster shouting from every
+angle of her uncomely person.  No matter what the fashion, she seemed
+to wear her clothes all bunched up about her hips.  Her hair was
+dragged to the back of her head, and crowned by a hat known in the dim
+recesses of the Victorian past as a "boater."  A veil clawed what
+remained of the hair and hat towards the rear, and accentuated the
+sharpness of her nose and the fleshlessness of her cheeks.  Miss Brent
+looked like nothing so much as an aged hawk in whom the lust to prey
+still lingered, without the power of making the physical effort to
+capture it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Patricia," she demanded, "what is all this I hear?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If you've been talking to Miss Wangle and Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe, Aunt
+Adelaide, heaven only knows what you've heard," replied Patricia calmly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Patricia."  Miss Brent invariably began her remarks by uttering the
+name of the person whom she addressed.  "Patricia, you know perfectly
+well what I mean."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I should know better, if you would tell me," murmured Patricia with a
+patient sigh as she seated herself in the easiest of the uneasy chairs,
+and proceeded to pull off her gloves.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Patricia, I refer to these stories about your being engaged."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, Aunt Adelaide?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Have you nothing to say?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nothing in particular.  People get engaged, you know.  I suppose it is
+because they've got nothing else to do."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Patricia, don't be frivolous."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Frivolous!  Me frivolous!  Aunt Adelaide!  If you were a secretary to
+a brainless politician, who is supposed to rise, but who won't rise,
+can't rise, and never will rise, from ten until five each day, for the
+magnificent salary of two and a half guineas a week, even you wouldn't
+be able to be frivolous."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Patricia!"  There was surprised disapproval in Miss Brent's voice.
+"Are you mad?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, Aunt Adelaide, just bored, just bored stiff."  Patricia emphasised
+the word "stiff" in a way that brought Miss Brent into an even more
+upright position.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Patricia, I wish you would change your idiom.  Your flagrant vulgarity
+would have deeply pained your poor, dear father."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia made no response; she simply looked as she felt, unutterably
+bored.  She was incapable even of invention.  Supposing she told her
+aunt the whole story, at least she would have the joy of seeing the
+look of horror that would overspread her features.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Patricia," continued Miss Brent, "I repeat, what is this I hear about
+your being engaged?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh!" replied Patricia indifferently, "I suppose you've heard the
+truth; I've got engaged."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Without telling me a word about it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, well! those are nasty things, you know, that one doesn't
+advertise."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Patricia!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, aunt, you say that all men are beasts, and if you associate with
+beasts, you don't like the world to know about it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Patricia!" repeated Miss Brent.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Aunt Adelaide!" cried Patricia, "you make me feel that I absolutely
+hate my name.  I wish I'd been numbered.  If you say 'Patricia' again I
+shall scream."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is it true that you are engaged to Lord Peter Bowen?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Good Lord, no."  Patricia sat up in astonishment.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then that woman in the lounge is a liar."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was uncompromising conviction in Miss Brent's tone.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia leaned forward and smiled.  "Aunt Adelaide, you are singularly
+discriminating to-day.  She is a liar, and she also happens to be a
+cat."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Brent appeared not to hear Patricia's remark.  She was occupied
+with her own thoughts.  She possessed a masculine habit of thinking
+before she spoke, and in consequence she was as devoid of impulse and
+spontaneity as a snail.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia watched her aunt covertly, her mind working furiously.  What
+could it mean?  Lord Peter Bowen!  Miss Wangle was not given to making
+mistakes in which the aristocracy were concerned.  At Galvin House she
+was the recognised authority upon anything and everything concerned
+with royalty and the titled and landed gentry.  County families were
+her hobbies and the peerage her obsession.  It would be just like
+Peter, thought Patricia, to turn out a lord, just the ridiculous,
+inconsequent sort of thing he would delight in.  She was unconscious of
+any incongruity in thinking of him as Peter.  It seemed the natural
+thing to do.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She saw by the signs on her aunt's face that she was nearing a
+decision.  Conscious that she must not burn her boats, Patricia burst
+in upon Miss Brent's thoughts with a suddenness that startled her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If Miss Wangle desires to discuss my friends with you in future, Aunt
+Adelaide, I think she should adopt the names by which they prefer to be
+known."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia watched the surprised look upon her aunt's face, and with
+dignity met the keen hawk-like glance that flashed from her eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If, for reasons of his own," continued Patricia, "a man chooses to
+drop his title in favour of his rank in the army, that I think is a
+matter for him to decide, and not one that requires discussion at Miss
+Wangle's hands."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Brent's stare convinced Patricia that she was carrying things off
+rather well.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Patricia, where did you meet this Colonel Peter Bowen?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The question came like a thunder-clap to Patricia's unprepared ears.
+All her self-complacency of a moment before now deserted her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She felt her face crimsoning.  How she envied girls who did not blush.
+What on earth could she tell her aunt?  Why had an undiscriminating
+Providence given her an Aunt Adelaide at all?  Why had it not bestowed
+this inestimable treasure upon someone more deserving?  What could she
+say?  As well think of lying to Rhadamanthus as to Miss Brent.  Then
+Patricia had an inspiration.  She would tell her aunt the truth,
+trusting to her not to believe it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where did I meet him, Aunt Adelaide?" she remarked indifferently.
+"Oh!  I picked him up in a restaurant; he looked nice."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Patricia, how dare you say such a thing before me."  A slight flush
+mantled Miss Brent's sallow cheeks.  All the proprieties, all the
+chastities and all the moralities banked up behind her in moral support.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You ought to feel ashamed of yourself, Patricia.  London has done you
+no good.  What would your poor dear father have said?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm sorry, Aunt Adelaide; but please remember I've had a very tiring
+week, trying to leaven an unleavenable politician.  Shall we drop the
+subject of Colonel Bowen for the time being?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Certainly not," snapped Miss Brent.  "It is my duty as your sole
+surviving relative," how Patricia deplored that word "surviving," why
+had her Aunt Adelaide survived?  "As your sole surviving relative,"
+repeated Miss Brent, "it is my duty to look after your welfare."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But," protested Patricia, "I'm nearly twenty-five, and I am quite able
+to look after myself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Patricia, it is my duty to look after you."  Miss Brent spoke as if
+she were about to walk over heated ploughshares rather than to satisfy
+a natural curiosity.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I repeat," proceeded Miss Brent, "where did you meet Colonel Bowen?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have told you, Aunt Adelaide, but you won't believe me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I want to know the truth, Patricia.  Is he really Lord Peter?"
+persisted Miss Brent.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To be quite candid, I've never asked him," replied Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Brent stared at her niece.  The obviously feminine thing was to
+express surprise; but Miss Brent never did the obvious thing.  Instead
+of repeating, "Never asked him!" she remained silent for some moments
+while Patricia, with great intentness, proceeded to jerk her gloves
+into shape.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Patricia, you are mad!"  Miss Brent spoke with conviction.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia glanced up from her occupation and smiled at her aunt as if
+entirely sharing her conviction.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's the price of spinsterhood with some women," was all she said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Brent glared at her; but there was more than a spice of curiosity
+in her look.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then you decline to tell me?" she enquired.  There was in her voice a
+note that told of a mind made up.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia knew from past experience that her aunt had made up her mind
+as to her course of action.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Tell you what?" she enquired innocently.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Whether or no the Colonel Bowen you are engaged to is Lord Peter
+Bowen."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia determined to temporise in order to gain time.  She knew Aunt
+Adelaide to be capable of anything, even to calling upon Lord Peter
+Bowen's family and enquiring if it were he to whom her niece was
+engaged.  She was too bewildered to know how to act.  It would be so
+like this absurd person to turn out to be a lord and make her still
+more ridiculous.  If he were Lord Peter, why on earth had he not told
+her?  Had he thought she would be dazzled?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Suddenly there flashed into Patricia's mind an explanation which caused
+her cheeks to flame and her eyes to flash.  She strove to put the idea
+aside as unworthy of him; but it refused to leave her.  She had heard
+of men giving false names to girls they met&mdash;in the way she and Bowen
+had met.  He had, then, in spite of his protestations, mistaken her.
+In all probability he was not staying at the Quadrant at all.  What a
+fool she had been.  She had told all about herself, whereas he had told
+her nothing beyond the fact that his name was Peter Bowen.  Oh, it was
+intolerable, humiliating!
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The worst of it was that she seemed unable to extricate herself from
+the ever-increasing tangle arising out of her folly.  Miss Wangle and
+Galvin House had been sufficiently serious factors, requiring all her
+watchfulness to circumvent them; but now Aunt Adelaide had thrown
+herself precipitately into the mêlée, and heaven alone knew what would
+be the outcome!
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Had her aunt been a man or merely a woman, Patricia argued, she would
+not have been so dangerous; but she possessed the deliberate logic of
+the one and the quickness of perception of the other.  With her
+feminine eye she could see, and with her man-like brain she could judge.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia felt that the one thing to do was to get rid of her aunt for
+the day and then think things over quietly and decide as to her plan of
+campaign.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Please, Aunt Adelaide," she said, "don't let's discuss it any more
+to-day, I've had such a worrying time at the Bonsors', and my head is
+so stupid.  Come to tea to-morrow afternoon at half-past five and I
+will tell you all, as they say in the novelettes; but for heaven's sake
+don't get talking to those dreadful old tabbies.  They have no affairs
+of their own, and at the present moment they simply live upon mine."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Very well, Patricia," replied Miss Brent as she rose to go, "I will
+wait until to-morrow; but, understand me, I am your sole surviving
+relative and I have a duty to perform by you.  That duty I shall
+perform whatever it costs me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As Patricia looked into the hard, cold eyes of her aunt, she believed
+her.  At that moment Miss Brent looked as if she represented all the
+aggressive virtues in Christendom.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's very sweet of you, Aunt Adelaide, and I very much appreciate your
+interest.  I am all nervy to-day; but I shall be all right to-morrow.
+Don't forget, half-past five here.  That will give me time to get back
+from the Bonsors'."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Brent pecked Patricia's right cheek and moved towards the door.
+"Remember, Patricia," she said, as a final shot, "to-morrow I shall
+expect a full explanation.  I am deeply concerned about you.  I cannot
+conceive what your poor dear father would have said had he been alive."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+With this parting shot Miss Brent moved down the staircase and left
+Galvin House.  As she stalked to the temperance hotel in Bloomsbury,
+where she was staying, she was fully satisfied that she had done her
+duty as a woman and a Christian.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sole surviving relative," muttered Patricia as she turned back after
+seeing her aunt out.  And then she remembered with a smile that her
+father had once said that "relatives were the very devil."  A softness
+came into her eyes at the thought of her father, and she remembered
+another saying of his, "When you lose your sense of humour and your
+courage at the same time, you have lost the game."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+For a moment Patricia paused, deliberating what she would do.  Finally,
+she walked to the telephone at the end of the hall.  There was a
+grimness about her look indicative of a set purpose, taking down the
+receiver she called "Gerrard 60000."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was a pause.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That the Quadrant Hotel?" she enquired.  "Is Lord Peter Bowen in?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The clerk would enquire.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia waited what seemed an age.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At last a voice cried, "Hullo!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is that Lord Peter Bowen?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is that you, Patricia?" came the reply from the other end of the wire.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, so it is true then!" said Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What's true?" queried Bowen at the other end.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What I've just said."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What do you mean?  I don't understand."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I must see you this evening," said Patricia in an even voice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's most awfully good of you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's nothing of the sort."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bowen laughed.  "Shall I come round?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Will you dine with me?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, where shall I see you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia thought for a moment.  "I will meet you at Lancaster Gate tube
+at twenty minutes to nine."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All right, I'll be there.  Shall I bring the car?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+For a moment Patricia hesitated.  She did not want to go to a
+restaurant with him, she wanted merely to talk and see how she was to
+get out of the difficulty with Aunt Adelaide.  The car seemed to offer
+a solution.  They could drive out to some quiet place and then talk
+without a chance of being overheard.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, please, I think that will do admirably."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mind you bring a thick coat.  Won't you let me pick you up?  Please
+do, then you can bring a fur coat and all that sort of thing, you know."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Again Patricia hesitated for a moment.  "Perhaps that would be the
+better way," she conceded grudgingly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Right-oh!  Will half-past eight do?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, I'll be ready."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's awfully kind of you; I'm frightfully bucked."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You had better wait and see, I think," was Patricia's grim retort.
+"Good-bye."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Au revoir."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia put the receiver up with a jerk.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She returned to her room conscious that she was never able to do
+herself justice with Bowen.  Her most righteous anger was always in
+danger of being dissipated when she spoke to him.  His personality
+seemed to radiate good nature, and he always appeared so genuinely glad
+to see her, or hear her voice that it placed her at a disadvantage.
+She ought to be stronger and more tenacious of purpose, she told
+herself.  It was weak to be so easily influenced by someone else,
+especially a man who had treated her in the way that Bowen had treated
+her; for Patricia had now come to regard herself as extremely ill-used.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Nothing, she told herself, would have persuaded her to ring up Bowen in
+the way she had done, had it not been for Aunt Adelaide.  In her heart
+she had to confess that she was very much afraid of Aunt Adelaide and
+what she might do.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia dreaded dinner that evening.  She knew instinctively that
+everybody would be full of Miss Wangle's discovery.  She might have
+known that Miss Wangle would not be satisfied until she had discovered
+everything there was to be discovered about Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As Patricia walked along the hall to the staircase, Mrs. Hamilton came
+out of the lounge.  Patricia put her arm round the fragile waist of the
+old lady and they walked upstairs together.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well," said Patricia gaily, "what are the old tabbies doing this
+afternoon?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dear!" expostulated Mrs. Hamilton gently, "you mustn't call them
+that, they have so very little to interest them that&mdash;that&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, you dear, funny little thing!" said Patricia, giving Mrs. Hamilton
+a squeeze which almost lifted her off her feet.  "I think you would
+find an excuse for anyone, no matter how wicked.  When I get very, very
+bad I shall come and ask you to explain me to myself.  I think if you
+had your way you would prove every wolf a sheep underneath.  Come into
+my room and have a pow-wow."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Inside her room Patricia lifted Mrs. Hamilton bodily on to the bed.
+"Now lie there, you dear little thing, and have a rest.  Dad used to
+say that every woman ought to lie on her back for two hours each day.
+I don't know why.  I suppose it was to keep her quiet and get her out
+of the way.  In any case you have got to lie down there."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But your bed, my dear," protested Mrs. Hamilton.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Never mind my bed, you just do as you're told.  Now what are the old
+cats&mdash;I beg your pardon, what have the&mdash;lambs been saying?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Hamilton smiled in spite of herself.  "Well, of course, dear,
+we're all very interested to hear that you are engaged to&mdash;Lord Peter
+Bowen."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How did they find out?" interrupted Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, it appears that Miss Wangle has a friend who has a cousin in the
+War Office."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, dear!" groaned Patricia.  "I believe Miss Wangle has a friend who
+has a cousin in every known place in the world, and a good many unknown
+places," she added.  "She has got a bishop in heaven, innumerable
+connections in Mayfair, acquaintances at Court, cousins of friends at
+the War Office; the only place where she seems to have nobody who has
+anybody else is hell."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dear!" said Mrs. Hamilton in horror, "you mustn't talk like that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But isn't it true?" persisted Patricia.  "Well, I'm sorry if I've
+shocked you.  Tell me all about it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well," began Mrs. Hamilton, "soon after you had gone out Miss Wangle's
+friend telephoned in reply to her letter of enquiry.  She told her all
+about Lord Peter Bowen, how he had distinguished himself in France, won
+the Military Cross, the D.S.O., how he had been promoted to the rank of
+lieutenant-colonel, and brought back to the War Office and given a
+position on the General Staff.  He's a very clever young man, my dear."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia laughed outright at Mrs. Hamilton's earnestness.  "Why of
+course he's clever, otherwise he wouldn't have taken up with such a
+clever young woman."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, my dear, I hope you'll be happy," said Mrs. Hamilton earnestly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I doubt it," said Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Doubt it!"  There was horror in Mrs. Hamilton's voice.  She half
+raised herself on the bed.  Patricia pushed her back again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Never mind, your remark reminds me of a story about a
+great-great-grandmother of mine.  A granddaughter of hers had become
+engaged and there was a great family meeting to introduce the poor
+victim to his future "in-laws."  The old lady was very deaf and had
+formed the habit of speaking aloud quite unconscious that others could
+hear her.  The wretched young man was brought up and presented, and
+everybody was agog to hear the grandmotherly pronouncement, for the old
+lady was as shrewd as she was frank.  She looked at the young man
+keenly and deliberately, whilst he stood the picture of discomfort, and
+turning to her granddaughter, said, "Well, my dear, I hope you'll be
+happy, I hope you'll be very happy," then to herself in an equally loud
+voice she added, "But he wouldn't have been my choice, he wouldn't have
+been my choice."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh! the poor dear," said Mrs. Hamilton, seeing only the tragic side of
+the situation.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia laughed.  "How like you, you dear little grey lady," and she
+bent down and kissed the pale cheeks, bringing a slight rose flush to
+them.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was half-past seven before Mrs. Hamilton left Patricia's room.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Heigh-ho!" sighed Patricia as she undid her hair, "I suppose I shall
+have to run the gauntlet during dinner."
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap07"></A>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER VII
+</H3>
+
+<H4 ALIGN="center">
+LORD PETER PROMISES A SOLUTION
+</H4>
+
+<P>
+Sunday supper at Galvin House was a cold meal timed for eight o'clock;
+but allowed to remain upon the table until half-past nine for the
+convenience of church-goers.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia had dawdled over her toilette, realising, however, to admit
+that she dreaded the ordeal before her in the dining-room.  When at
+last she could find no excuse for remaining longer in her room, she
+descended the stairs slowly, conscious of a strange feeling of
+hesitancy about her knees.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Outside the dining-room door she paused.  Her instinct was to bolt; but
+the pad-pad of Gustave's approaching footsteps cutting off her retreat
+decided her.  As she entered the dining-room the hum of excited
+conversation ceased abruptly and, amidst a dead silence, Patricia
+walked to her seat conscious of a heightened colour and a hatred of her
+own species.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Looking round the table, and seeing how acutely self-conscious everyone
+seemed, her self-possession returned.  She noticed a new deference in
+Gustave's manner as he placed before her a plate of cold shoulder of
+mutton and held the salad-bowl at her side.  Having helped herself
+Patricia turned to Miss Wangle, and for a moment regarded her with an
+enigmatical smile that made her fidget.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How clever of you, Miss Wangle," she said sweetly.  "In future no one
+will ever dare to have a secret at Galvin House."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Wangle reddened.  Mr. Bolton's laugh rang out.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Miss Wangle, Private Enquiry Agent," he cried, "I&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Really, Mr. Bolton!" protested Mrs. Craske-Morton, looking anxiously
+at Miss Wangle's indrawn lips and angry eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Bolton subsided.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We're so excited, dear Miss Brent," simpered Miss Sikkum.  "You'll be
+Lady Bowen&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Lady Peter Bowen," corrected Mrs. Craske-Morton with superior
+knowledge.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Lady Peter," gushed Miss Sikkum.  "Oh how romantic, and I shall see
+your portrait in <I>The Mirror</I>.  Oh!  Miss Brent, aren't you happy?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia smiled across at Miss Sikkum, whose enthusiasm was too genuine
+to cause offence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And you'll have cars and all sorts of things," remarked Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe, thinking of he solitary blue evening frock, "he's very
+rich."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Worth ten thousand a year," almost shouted Mr. Cordal, striving to
+regain control over a piece of lettuce-leaf that fluttered from his
+lips, and having eventually to use his fingers.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You'll forget all about us," said Miss Pilkington, who in her capacity
+as a post-office supervisor daily showed her contempt for the public
+whose servant she was.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If you're nice to her," said Mr. Bolton, "she may buy her stamps at
+your place."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Again Mrs. Craske-Morton's "Really, Mr. Bolton!" eased the situation.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia was for the most part silent.  She was thinking of the coming
+talk with Bowen.  In spite of herself she was excited at the prospect
+of seeing him again.  Miss Wangle also said little.  From time to time
+she glanced in Patricia's direction.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The Wangle's off her feed," whispered Mr. Bolton to Miss Sikkum,
+producing from her a giggle and an "Oh!  Mr. Bolton, you <I>are</I>
+dreadful."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Barnes was worrying as to whether a lord should be addressed as
+"my lord" or "sir," and if you curtsied to him, and if so how you did
+it with rheumatism in the knee.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia noticed with amusement the new deference with which everyone
+treated her.  Mrs. Craske-Morton, in particular, was most solicitous
+that she should make a good meal.  Miss Wangle's silence was in itself
+a tribute.  Patricia nervously waited the moment when Bowen's presence
+should be announced.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When the time came Gustave rose to the occasion magnificently.
+Throwing open the dining-room door impressively and speaking with great
+distinctness he cried:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ees Lordship is 'ere, mees," and then after a moment's pause he added,
+"'E 'as brought 'is car, mees.  It is at the door."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia smiled in spite of herself at Gustave's earnestness.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Very well, Gustave, say I will not be a moment," she replied and, with
+a muttered apology to Mrs. Craske-Morton, she left the table and the
+dining-room, conscious of the dramatic tension of the situation.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia ran down the passage leading to the lounge, then, suddenly
+remembering that haste and happiness were not in keeping with anger and
+reproach, entered the lounge with a sedateness that even Aunt Adelaide
+could not have found lacking in maidenly decorum.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bowen came across from the window and took both her hands.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why was she allowing him to do this?" she asked herself.  "Why did she
+not reproach him, why did she thrill at his touch, why&mdash;&mdash;?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She withdrew her hands sharply, looked up at him and then for no reason
+at all laughed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+How absurd it all was.  It was easy to be angry with him when he was at
+the Quadrant and she at Galvin House; but with him before her, looking
+down at her with eyes that were smilingly confident and gravely
+deferential by turn, she found her anger and good resolutions disappear.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I know you are going to bully me, Patricia."  Bowen's eyes smiled; but
+there was in his voice a note of enquiry.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh! please let us escape before the others come in sight," said
+Patricia, looking over her shoulder anxiously.  "They'll all be out in
+a moment.  I left them straining at their leashes and swallowing
+scalding coffee so as to get a glimpse of a real, live lord at close
+quarters."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As she spoke Patricia stabbed on a toque.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Shall I want anything warmer than this?" she enquired as Bowen helped
+her into a long fur-trimmed coat.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I brought a big fur coat for you in case it gets cold," he replied,
+and he held open the door for her to pass.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Quick," she whispered, "they're coming."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As she ran down the steps she nodded brightly to Gustave, who stood
+almost bowed down with the burden of his respect for an English lord.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As Bowen swung the car round, Patricia was conscious that at the
+drawing-room and lounge windows Galvin House was heavily massed.
+Unable to find a space, Miss Sikkum and Mr. Bolton had come out on to
+the doorstep and, as the car jerked forward, Miss Sikkum waved her
+pocket handkerchief.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia shuddered.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+For some time they were silent.  Patricia was content to enjoy the
+unaccustomed sense of swift movement coupled with the feeling of the
+luxury of a Rolls Royce.  From time to time Bowen glanced at her and
+smiled, and she was conscious of returning the smile, although in the
+light of what she intended to say she felt that smiles were not
+appropriate.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The car sped along the Bayswater Road, threaded its way through
+Hammersmith Broadway and passed over the bridge, across Barnes Common
+into Priory Lane, and finally into Richmond Park.  Bowen had not
+mentioned where he intended to take her, and Patricia was glad.  She
+was essentially feminine, and liked having things decided for her, the
+more so as she invariably had to decide for herself.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Half-way across the Park Bowen turned in the direction of Kingston Gate
+and, a minute later, drew up just off the roadway.  Having stopped the
+engine he turned to her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now, Patricia," he said with a smile, "I am at your mercy.  There is
+no one within hail."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bowen's voice recalled her from dreamland.  She was thinking how
+different everything might have been, but for that unfortunate
+unconvention.  With an effort she came down to earth to find Bowen
+smiling into her eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was an effort for her to assume the indignation she had previously
+felt.  Bowen's presence seemed to dissipate her anger.  Why had she not
+written to him instead of endeavouring to express verbally what she
+knew she would fail to convey?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Please don't be too hard on me, Patricia," pleaded Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia looked at him.  She wished he would not smile at her in that
+way and assume an air of penitence.  It was so disarming.  It was
+unfair.  He was taking a mean advantage.  He was always taking a mean
+advantage of her, always putting her in the wrong.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+By keeping her face carefully averted from his, she was able to tinge
+her voice with indignation as she demanded:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why did you not tell me who you were?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But I did," he protested.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You said that you were Colonel Bowen, and you are not."  Patricia was
+pleased to find her sense of outraged indignation increasing.  "You
+have made me ridiculous in the eyes of everyone at Galvin House."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But," protested Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's no good saying 'but,'" replied Patricia unreasonably, "you know
+I'm right."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But I told you my name was Bowen," he said, "and later I told you that
+my rank was that of a lieutenant-colonel, both of which are quite
+correct."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are Lord Peter Bowen, and you've made me ridiculous," then
+conscious of the absurdity of her words, Patricia laughed; but there
+was no mirth in her laughter.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Made you ridiculous," said Bowen, concern in his voice.  "But how?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, I am not referring to your boy-messengers and telegrams, florists'
+shops, confectioners' stocks," said Patricia, "but all the tabbies in
+Galvin House set themselves to work to find out who you were
+and&mdash;and&mdash;look what an absurd figure I cut!  Then of course Aunt
+Adelaide must butt in."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Aunt Adelaide!" repeated Bowen, knitting his brows.  "Tabbies at
+Galvin House!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If you repeat my words like that I shall scream," said Patricia.  "I
+wish you would try and be intelligent.  Miss Wangle told Aunt Adelaide
+that I'm engaged to Lord Peter Bowen.  Aunt Adelaide then asked me
+about my engagement, and I had to make up some sort of story about
+Colonel Bowen.  She then enquired if it were true that I was engaged to
+Lord Peter Bowen.  Of course I said 'No,' and that is where we are at
+present, and you've got to help me out.  You got me into the mess."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Might I enquire who Aunt Adelaide is, please, Patricia?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bowen's humility made him very difficult to talk to.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Aunt Adelaide is my sole surviving relative, vide her own statement,"
+said Patricia.  "If I had my way she would be neither surviving nor a
+relative; but as it happens she is both, and to-morrow afternoon at
+half-past five she is coming to Galvin House to receive a full
+explanation of my conduct."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bowen compressed his lips and wrinkled his forehead; but there was
+laughter in his eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's difficult, isn't it, Patricia?" he said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's absurd, and please don't call me Patricia."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But we're engaged and&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We're nothing of the sort," she said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But we are," protested Bowen.  "I can&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Never mind what you can do," she retorted.  "What am I to tell Aunt
+Adelaide at half-past five to-morrow evening?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why not tell her the truth?" said Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Isn't that just like a man?"  Patricia addressed the query to a deer
+that was eyeing the car curiously from some fifty yards distance.
+"Tell the truth," she repeated scornfully.  "But how much will that
+help us?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well! let's tell a lie," protested Bowen, smiling.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And then Patricia did a weak and foolish thing, she laughed, and Bowen
+laughed.  Finally they sat and looked at each other helplessly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"However you got those," she nodded at the ribbons on his breast, "I
+don't know.  It was certainly not for being intelligent."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+For a minute Bowen did not reply.  He was apparently lost in thought.
+Presently he turned to Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Look here," he said, "by half-past five to-morrow afternoon I'll have
+found a solution.  Now can't we talk about something pleasant?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There is nothing pleasant to talk about when Aunt Adelaide is looming
+on the horizon.  She's about the most unpleasant thing next to
+chilblains that I know."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose," said Bowen tentatively, "you couldn't solve the difficulty
+by marrying me by special licence."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Marry you by special licence!" cried Patricia in amazement.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, it would put everything right."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think you must be mad," said Patricia with decision; but conscious
+that her cheeks were very hot.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think I must be in love," was Bowen's quiet retort.  "Will you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not even to escape Aunt Adelaide's interrogation would I marry you by
+special, or any other licence," said Patricia with decision.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bowen turned away, a shadow falling across his face.  Then a moment
+after, drawing his cigarette-case from his pocket, he enquired, "Shall
+we smoke?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia accepted the cigarette he offered her.  She watched him as he
+lighted first hers, then his own.  She saw the frown that had settled
+upon his usually happy face, and noted the staccatoed manner in which
+he smoked.  Then she became conscious that she had been lacking in not
+only graciousness but common civility.  Instinctively she put out her
+hand and touched his coat-sleeve.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Please forgive me, I was rather a beast, wasn't I?" she said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He looked round and smiled; but the smile did not reach his eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Please try and understand," she said, "and now will you drive me home?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bowen looked at her for a moment, then, getting out of the car, started
+the engine, and without a word climbed back to his seat.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The journey back was performed in silence.  At Galvin House Gustave,
+who was on the look-out, threw open the door with a flourish.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In saying good night neither referred to the subject of their
+conversation.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As Patricia entered, the lounge seemed suddenly to empty its contents
+into the hall.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I hope you enjoyed your ride," said Mr. Bolton.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I hate motoring," said Patricia.  Then she walked upstairs with a curt
+"Good night," leaving a group of surprised people speculating as to the
+cause of her mood, and deeply commiserating with Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap08"></A>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER VIII
+</H3>
+
+<H4 ALIGN="center">
+LORD PETER'S S.O.S.
+</H4>
+
+<P>
+"The bath is ready, my lord."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lord Peter Bowen opened his eyes as if reluctant to acknowledge that
+another day had dawned.  He stretched his limbs and yawned luxuriously.
+For the next few moments he lay watching his man, Peel, as he moved
+noiselessly about the room, idly speculating as to whether such
+precision and self-repression were natural or acquired.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+To Bowen Peel was a source of never-ending interest.  No matter at what
+hour Bowen had seen him, Peel always appeared as if he had just shaved.
+In his every action there was purpose, and every purpose was governed
+by one law&mdash;order.  He was noiseless, wordless, selfless.  Bowen was
+convinced that were he to die suddenly and someone chance to call, Peel
+would merely say: "His Lordship is not at home, sir."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Thin of face, small of stature, precise of movement, Peel possessed the
+individuality of negation.  He looked nothing in particular, seemed
+nothing in particular, did everything to perfection.  His face was a
+barrier to intimacy, his demeanour a gulf to the curious: he betrayed
+neither emotion nor confidence.  In short he was the most perfect
+gentleman's servant in existence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What's the time, Peel?" enquired Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Seven forty-three, my lord," replied the meticulous Peel, glancing at
+the clock on the mantel-piece.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Have I any engagements to-day?" queried his master.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, my lord.  You have refused to make any since last Thursday
+morning."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then Bowen remembered.  He had pleaded pressure at the War Office as an
+excuse for declining all invitations.  He was determined that nothing
+should interfere with his seeing Patricia should she unbend.  With the
+thought of Patricia returned the memory of the previous night's events.
+Bowen cursed himself for the mess he had made of things.  Every act of
+his had seemed to result only in one thing, the angering of Patricia.
+Even then things might have gone well if it had not been for his
+wretched bad luck in being the son of a peer.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As he lay watching Peel, Bowen felt in a mood to condole with himself.
+Confound it!  Surely it could not be urged against him as his fault
+that he had a wretched title.  He had been given no say in the matter.
+As for telling Patricia, could he immediately on meeting her blurt out,
+"I'm a lord?"  Supposing he had introduced himself as
+"Lieutenant-Colonel Lord Peter Bowen."  How ridiculous it would have
+sounded.  He had come to hate the very sound of the word "lord."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's ten minutes to eight, my lord."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was Peel's voice that broke in upon his reflections.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, damn!" cried Bowen as he threw his legs out of bed and sat looking
+at Peel.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I beg pardon, my lord?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I said damn!" replied Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, my lord."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bowen regarded Peel narrowly.  He was confoundedly irritating this
+morning.  He seemed to be my-lording his master specially to annoy him.
+There was, however, no sign upon Peel's features or in his watery blue
+eyes indicating that he was other than in his normal frame of mind.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Why couldn't Patricia be sensible?  Why must she take up this absurd
+attitude, contorting every action of his into a covert insult?  Why
+above all things couldn't women be reasonable?  Bowen rose, stretched
+himself and walked across to the bath-room.  As he was about to enter
+he looked over his shoulder.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If," he said, "you can arrange to remind me of my infernal title as
+little as possible during the next few days, Peel, I shall feel
+infinitely obliged."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, my lord," was the response.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bowen banged the door savagely, and Peel rang to order breakfast.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+During the meal Bowen pondered over the events of the previous evening,
+and in particular over Patricia's unreasonableness.  His one source of
+comfort was that she had appealed to him to put things right about her
+aunt.  That would involve his seeing her again.  He did not, or would
+not, see that he was the only one to whom she could appeal.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bowen always breakfasted in his own sitting-room; he disliked his
+fellow-men in the early morning.  Looking up suddenly from the table he
+caught Peel's expressionless eye upon him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Peel."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, my lord."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why is it that we Englishmen dislike each other so at breakfast?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Peel paused for a moment.  "I've heard it said, my lord, that we're
+half an inch taller in the morning, perhaps our perceptions are more
+acute also."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bowen looked at Peel curiously.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You're a philosopher," he said, "and I'm afraid a bit of a cynic."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I hope not, my lord," responded Peel.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bowen pushed back his chair and rose, receiving from Peel his cap,
+cane, and gloves.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"By the way," he said, "I want you to ring up Lady Tanagra and ask her
+to lunch with me at half-past one.  Tell her it's very important, and
+ask her not to fail me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, my lord: it shall be attended to."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bowen went out.  Lady Tanagra was Bowen's only sister.  As children
+they had been inseparable, forced into an alliance by the overbearing
+nature of their elder brother, the heir, Viscount Bowen, who would
+succeed to the title as the eighth Marquess of Meyfield.  Bowen was
+five years older than his sister, who had just passed her twenty-third
+birthday and, as a frail sensitive child, she had instinctively looked
+to him for protection against her elder brother.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Their comradeship was that of mutual understanding.  For one to say to
+the other, "Don't fail me," meant that any engagement, however
+pressing, would be put off.  There was a tacit acknowledgment that
+their comradeship stood before all else.  Each to the other was unique.
+Thus when Bowen sent the message to Lady Tanagra through Peel asking
+her not to fail him, he knew that she would keep the appointment.  He
+knew equally well that it would involve her in the breaking of some
+other engagement, for there were few girls in London so popular as Lady
+Tanagra Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Whenever there was an important social function, Lady Tanagra Bowen was
+sure to be there, and it was equally certain that the photographers of
+the illustrated and society papers would so manoeuvre that she came
+into the particular group, or groups, they were taking.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The seventh Marquess of Meyfield was an enthusiastic collector of
+Tanagra figurines and, overruling his lady's protestations, he had
+determined to call his first and only daughter Tanagra.  Lady Meyfield
+had begged for a second name; but the Marquess had been resolute.
+"Tanagra I will have her christened and Tanagra I will have her
+called," he had said with a smile that, if it mitigated the sternness
+of his expression, did not in my way undermine his determination.  Lady
+Meyfield knew her lord, and also that her only chance of ruling him was
+by showing unfailing tact.  She therefore bowed to his decision.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Poor child!" she had remarked as she looked down at the frail little
+mite in the hollow of her arm, "you're certainly going to be made
+ridiculous; but I've done my best," and Lord Meyfield had come across
+the room and kissed his wife with the remark, "There you're wrong, my
+dear, it's going to help to make her a great success.  Imagine, the
+Lady Tanagra Bowen; why it would make a celebrity of the most
+commonplace female," whereat they had both smiled.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As a child Lady Tanagra had been teased unmercifully about her name, so
+much so that she had almost hated it; but later when she had come to
+love the figurines that were so much part of her father's life, she had
+learned, not only to respect, but to be proud of the name.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+To her friends and intimates she was always Tan, to the less intimate
+Lady Tan, and to the world at large Lady Tanagra Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She had once found the name extremely useful, when in process of being
+proposed to by an undesirable of the name of Black.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's no good," she had said, "I could never marry you, no matter what
+the state of my feelings.  Think how ridiculous we should both be,
+everybody would call us Black and Tan.  Ugh! it sounds like a whisky as
+well as a dog."  Whereat Mr. Black had laughed and they remained
+friends, which was a great tribute to Lady Tanagra.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Exquisitely pretty, sympathetic, witty, human!  Lady Tanagra Bowen was
+a favourite wherever she went.  She seemed incapable of making enemies
+even amongst her own sex.  Her taste in dress was as unerring as in
+literature and art.  Everything she did or said was without effort.
+She had been proposed to by "half the eligibles and all the ineligibles
+in London," as Bowen phrased it; but she declared she would never marry
+until Peter married, and had thus got somebody else to mother him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At a quarter-past one when Bowen left the War Office, he found Lady
+Tanagra waiting in her car outside.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Hullo, Tan!" he cried, "what a brainy idea, picking up the poor, tired
+warrior."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It'll save you a taxi, Peter.  I'll tell you what to do with the
+shilling as we go along."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Tanagra smiled up into her brother's face.  She was always happy
+with Peter.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As she swung the car across Whitehall to get into the north-bound
+stream of traffic, Bowen looked down at his sister.  She handled her
+big car with dexterity and ease.  She was a dainty creature with
+regular features, violet-blue eyes and golden hair that seemed to defy
+all constraint.  There was a tilt about her chin that showed
+determination, and that about her eyebrows which suggested something
+more than good judgment.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I hope you weren't doing anything to-day, Tan," said Bowen as they
+came to a standstill at the top of Whitehall, waiting for the removal
+of a blue arm that barred their progress.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I was lunching with the Bolsovers; but I'm not well enough, I'm
+afraid, to see them.  It's measles, you know."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Good heavens, Tan! what do you mean?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I had to say something that would be regarded as a sufficient
+excuse for breaking a luncheon engagement of three weeks' standing.
+Quite a lot of people were invited to meet me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm awfully sorry," began Bowen apologetically.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, it's all right!" was the reply as the car jumped forward.  "I
+shall be deluged with fruit and flowers now from all sorts of people,
+because the Bolsovers are sure to spread it round that I'm in extremis.
+To-morrow, however, I shall announce that it was a wrong diagnosis."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Tanagra drew the car up to the curb outside Dent's.  "I think,"
+she said, indicating an old woman selling matches, "we'll give her the
+shilling for the taxi, Peter, shall we?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Peter beckoned the old woman and handed her a shilling with a smile.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Does it make you feel particularly virtuous to be charitable with
+another's money?" he enquired.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Tanagra made a grimace.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Over lunch they talked upon general topics and about common friends.
+Lady Tanagra made no reference to the important matter that had caused
+her to be summoned to lunch, even at the expense of having measles as
+an excuse.  That was characteristic of her.  She had nothing of a
+woman's curiosity, at least she never showed it, particularly with
+Peter.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+After lunch they went to the lounge for coffee.  When they had been
+served and both were smoking, Bowen remarked casually, "Got any
+engagement for this afternoon, Tan?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Tea at the Carlton at half-past four, then I promised to run in to see
+the Grahams before dinner.  I'm afraid it will mean more flowers and
+fruit.  Oh!" she replied, "I suppose I must stick to measles.  I shall
+have to buy some thanks for kind enquiries cards as I go home."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+During lunch Bowen had been wondering how he could approach the subject
+of Patricia.  He could not tell even Tanagra how he had met her&mdash;that
+was Patricia's secret.  If she chose to tell, that was another matter;
+but he could not.  As a rule he found it easy to talk to Tanagra and
+explain things; but this was a little unusual.  Lady Tanagra watched
+him shrewdly for a minute or two.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think I should just say it as it comes, Peter," she remarked in a
+casual, matter-of-fact tone.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bowen started and then laughed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What I want is a sponsor for an acquaintanceship between myself and a
+girl.  I cannot tell you everything, Tan, she may decide to; but of
+course you know it's all right."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, of course," broke in Lady Tanagra with an air of conviction which
+contained something of a reproach that he should have thought it
+necessary to mention such a thing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, you've got to do a bit of lying, too, I'm afraid."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh! that will be all right.  The natural consequence of a high
+temperature through measles."  Lady Tanagra saw that Bowen was ill at
+ease, and sought by her lightness to simplify things for him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How long have I known her?" she proceeded.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh! that you had better settle with her.  All that is necessary is for
+you to have met her somewhere, or somehow, and to have introduced me to
+her."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And who is to receive these explanations?" enquired Lady Tanagra.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Her aunt, a gorgon."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Does the girl know that you are&mdash;that I am to throw myself into the
+breach?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said Peter, "I didn't think to tell her.  I said that I would
+arrange things.  Her name's Patricia Brent.  She's private secretary to
+Arthur Bonsor of 426 Eaton Square, and she lives at Galvin House
+Residential Hotel, to give it its full title, 8 Galvin Street,
+Bayswater.  Her aunt is to be at Galvin House at half-past five this
+afternoon, when I have to be explained to her.  Oh! it's most devilish
+awkward, Tan, because I can't tell you the facts of the case.  I wish
+she were here."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's all right, Peter.  I'll put things right.  What time does she
+leave Eaton Square?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Five o'clock, I think."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Good! leave it to me.  By the way, where shall you be if I want to get
+at you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"When?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Say six o'clock."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll be back here at six and wait until seven."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That will do.  Now I really must be going.  I've got to telephone to
+these people about the measles.  Shall I run you down to Whitehall?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, thanks, I think I'll walk," and with that he saw her into her car
+and turned to walk back to Whitehall, thanking his stars for being
+possessed of such a sister and marvelling at her wisdom.  He had not
+the most remote idea of how she would achieve her purpose; but achieve
+it he was convinced she would.  It was notorious that Lady Tanagra
+never failed in anything she undertook.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+While Bowen and his sister were lunching at the Quadrant, Patricia was
+endeavouring to concentrate her mind upon her work.  "The egregious
+Arthur," as she called him to herself in her more impatient moments,
+had been very trying that morning.  He had been in a particularly
+indeterminate mood, which involved the altering and changing of almost
+every sentence he dictated.  In the usual way he was content to tell
+Patricia what he wanted to say, and let her clothe it in fitting words;
+but this morning he had insisted on dictating every letter, with the
+result that her notes had become hopelessly involved and she was
+experiencing great difficulty in reading them.  Added to this was the
+fact that she could not keep her thoughts from straying to Aunt
+Adelaide.  What would happen that afternoon?  What was Bowen going to
+do to save the situation?  He had promised to see her through; but how
+was he going to do it?
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap09"></A>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER IX
+</H3>
+
+<H4 ALIGN="center">
+LADY TANAGRA TAKES A HAND
+</H4>
+
+<P>
+At a quarter to five Patricia left the library to go upstairs to put on
+her hat and coat.  In the hall she encountered Mrs. Bonsor.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Finished?" interrogated that lady in a tone of voice that implied she
+was perfectly well aware of the fact that it wanted still a quarter of
+an hour to the time at which Patricia was supposed to be free.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No; there is still some left; but I'm going home," said Patricia.
+There was something in her voice and appearance that prompted Mrs.
+Bonsor to smile her artificial smile and remark that she thought
+Patricia was quite right, the weather being very trying.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When she left the Bonsors' house, Patricia was too occupied with her
+own thoughts to notice the large grey car standing a few yards up the
+square with a girl at the steering-wheel.  Patricia turned in the
+opposite direction from that in which the car stood, making her way
+towards Sloane Street to get her bus.  She had not gone many steps when
+the big car slid silently up beside her, and she heard a voice say,
+"Can't I give you a lift to Galvin House?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She turned round and saw a fair-haired girl smiling at her from the car.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I&mdash;I&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Jump in, won't you?" said the girl.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But&mdash;but I think you've made a mistake."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You're Patricia Brent, aren't you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes," said Patricia, smiling, "that's my name."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well then, jump in and I'll run you up to Galvin House.  Don't delay
+or you'll be too late for your aunt."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia looked at the girl in mute astonishment, but proceeded to get
+into the car, there seemed nothing else to be done.  As she did so, the
+fair-haired girl laughed brightly.  "It's awfully mean of me to take
+such an advantage, but I couldn't resist it.  I'm Peter's sister,
+Tanagra."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh!" said Patricia, light dawning upon her and turning to Tanagra with
+a smile, "Then you're the solution?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes," said Lady Tanagra, "I'm going to see you two out of the mess
+you've somehow or other got into."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Suddenly Patricia stiffened.  "Did he&mdash;did he&mdash;er&mdash;tell you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not he," said Lady Tanagra, shoving on the brake suddenly to avoid a
+crawling taxi that had swung round without any warning.  "Peter doesn't
+talk."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But then, how do you&mdash;&mdash;?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well," said Lady Tanagra, "he told me that I was to be the one who had
+introduced him to you and explain him to your aunt.  It's all over
+London that I've got measles, and there will be simply piles of flowers
+and fruit arriving at Grosvenor Square by every possible conveyance."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Measles!" cried Patricia uncomprehendingly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, you see when Peter wants me I always have to throw up any sort of
+engagement, and he does the same for me.  When he asked me to lunch
+with him to-day and said it was important, I had to give some
+reasonable excuse to three lots of people to whom I had pledged myself,
+and I thought measles would do quite nicely."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia laughed in spite of herself.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So you don't know anything except that you have got to&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sponsor you," interrupted Lady Tanagra.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+For some time Patricia was silent.  She felt she could tell her story
+to this girl who was so trustful that everything was all right, and who
+was willing to do anything to help her brother.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Can't we go slowly whilst I talk to you," said Patricia, as they
+turned into the Park.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We'll do better than that," said Lady Tanagra, "we'll stop and sit
+down for five minutes."  She pulled up the car near the Stanhope Gate
+and they found a quiet spot under a tree.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I cannot allow you to enter into this affair," said Patricia, "without
+telling you the whole story.  What you will think of me afterwards I
+don't know; but I've got myself into a most horrible mess."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She then proceeded to explain the whole situation, how it came about
+that she had come to know Bowen and the upshot of the meeting.  Lady
+Tanagra listened without interruption and without betraying by her
+expression what were her thoughts.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And now what do you think of me?" demanded Patricia when she had
+concluded.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+For a moment Lady Tanagra rested her hand upon Patricia's.  "I think,
+you goose, that had you known Peter better there would not have been so
+much need for you to worry; but there isn't much time and we've got to
+prepare.  Now listen carefully.  First of all you must call me Tan or
+Tanagra, and I must call you Patricia or Pat, or whatever you like.
+Secondly, as it would take too long to find out if we've got any
+friends in common, you went to the V.A.D. Depot in St. George's
+Crescent to see if you could do anything to help.  There you met me.
+I'm quite a shining light there, by the way, and we palled up.  This
+led to my introducing Peter and&mdash;well all the rest is quite easy."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But&mdash;but there isn't any rest," said Patricia.  "Don't you see how
+horribly awkward it is?  I'm supposed to be engaged to him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh!" said Lady Tanagra quietly, "that's a matter for you and Peter to
+settle between you.  I'm afraid I can't interfere there.  All I can do
+is to explain how you and he came to know each other; and now we had
+better be getting on as your aunt will not be pleased if you keep her
+waiting.  What I propose to do is to pick her up and take her up to the
+Quadrant where we shall find Peter."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But," protested Patricia, "that's simply getting us more involved than
+ever."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I'm afraid it's got to be," said Lady Tanagra, smiling
+mischievously; "it's much better that they should meet at the Quadrant
+than at Galvin House, where you say everybody is so catty."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia saw the force of Lady Tanagra's argument, and they were soon
+whirling on their way towards Galvin House.  She wanted to pinch
+herself to be quite sure that she was not dreaming.  Everything seemed
+to be happening with such rapidity that her brain refused to keep pace
+with events.  Why had she not met these people in a conventional way so
+that she might preserve their friendship?  It was hard luck, she told
+herself.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Would you mind telling me what you propose doing?" enquired Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I promised Peter to gather up the pieces," was the response.  "All
+you've got to do is to remain quiet."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Tanagra brought the car up in front of Galvin House with a
+magnificent sweep.  Gustave, who had been on the watch, swung open the
+door in his most impressive manner.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As Patricia and Lady Tanagra entered the lounge, Miss Wangle and Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe were addressing pleasantries to a particularly grim
+Miss Brent.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, here you are!"  Miss Brent's exclamation was uttered in such a
+voice as to pierce even the thick skin of Miss Wangle, who having
+instantly recognised Lady Tanagra, retired with Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe a
+few yards, where they carried on a whispered conversation, casting
+significant glances at Lady Tanagra, Miss Brent and Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I told Patricia that it was time the families met," said Lady Tanagra,
+"and so I insisted on coming when I heard you were to be here."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think you are quite right."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia was surprised at the change in her aunt.  Much of her usual
+uncompromising downrightness had been shed, and she appeared almost
+gracious.  For one thing she was greatly impressed at the thought that
+Patricia was to become Lady Peter Bowen.  As the aunt of Lady Peter
+Bowen, Miss Brent saw that her own social position would be
+considerably improved.  She saw herself taking precedence at Little
+Milstead and issuing its social life and death warrants.  Apart from
+these considerations Miss Brent was not indifferent to Lady Tanagra's
+personal charm.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Tan's parlour tricks," as Godfrey Elton called them, were notorious.
+Everyone was aware of their existence; yet everyone fell an instant
+victim.  A compound of earnestness, deference, pleading, irresistible
+impertinence and dignity, they formed a dangerous weapon.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Tanagra's position among her friends and acquaintance was unique.
+When difficulties and contentions arose, the parties' instinctive
+impulse was to endeavour to invest her interest.  "Tanagra is so
+sensible," outraged parenthood would exclaim; "Tan's such a sport.
+She'll understand," cried rebellious youth.  People not only asked Lady
+Tanagra's advice, but took it.  The secret of her success, unknown to
+herself, was her knowledge of human nature.  Even those against whom
+she gave her decisions bore her no ill-will.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Her manner towards Miss Brent was a mixture of laughter and
+seriousness, with deft little touches of deference.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I've come to apologize for everybody and everything, Miss Brent," she
+cried; "but in particular for myself."  Lady Tanagra chatted on gaily,
+"sparring for an opening," Elton called it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You mustn't blame Patricia," she bubbled in her soft musical voice,
+"it's all Peter's fault, and where it's not his fault it's mine," she
+proceeded illogically.  "You won't be hard on us, will you?"  She
+looked up at Miss Brent with the demureness of a child expecting severe
+rebuke for some naughtiness.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Brent's eyes narrowed and the firm line of her lips widened.
+Patricia recognised this as the outward evidences of a smile.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I confess, I am greatly puzzled," began Miss Brent.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of course you must be," continued Lady Tanagra, "and if you were not
+so kind you would be very cross, especially with me.  Now," she
+continued, without giving Miss Brent a chance of replying, "I want you
+to do me a very great favour."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Tanagra paused impressively, and gave Miss Brent her most pleading
+look.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Brent looked at Lady Tanagra with just a tinge of suspicion in her
+pea-soup coloured eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"May I ask what it is?" she enquired guardedly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I want you to let me carry you off to a quiet place where we can talk."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Brent rose at once.  She disliked Calvin House and the inquisitive
+glances of its inmates.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I told Peter to be at the Quadrant until seven.  He is very anxious to
+meet you," continued Lady Tanagra as they moved towards the door.  "I
+would not let him come here as I thought, from that Patricia has told
+me, that you would not care&mdash;to&mdash;&mdash;" She paused.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are quite right, Lady Tanagra," said Miss Brent with decision.  "I
+do not like boarding-houses.  They are not the places for the
+discussion of family affairs."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia descended the steps of Galvin House, not quite sure whether
+this were reality or a dream.  She watched Miss Brent seat herself
+beside Lady Tanagra, whilst she herself entered the tonneau of the car.
+As the door clicked and the car sprang forward, she caught a glimpse of
+eager faces at the windows of Galvin House.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As they swung into the Park and hummed along the even road, Patricia
+endeavoured to bring herself to earth.  She pinched herself until it
+hurt.  What had happened?  She felt like someone present at her own
+funeral.  Her fate was being decided without anyone seeming to think it
+necessary to consult her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"By half-past five to-morrow afternoon I shall have found a solution."
+Bowen's words came back to her.  He was right.  Lady Tanagra was indeed
+a solution.  Patricia and Miss Brent were merely lay-figures.  It must
+be wonderful to be able to make people do what you wished, she mused.
+She wondered what would have happened had Bowen possessed his sister's
+powers.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At the Quadrant Peel was waiting in the vestibule.  With a bow that
+impressed Miss Brent, he conducted them to Bowen's suite.  As they
+entered Bowen sprang up from a writing-table.  Patricia noticed that
+there was no smell of tobacco smoke.  The Bowens were a wonderful
+family, she decided, remembering her aunt's prejudices.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have only just heard you were in town," she heard Bowen explaining
+to Miss Brent.  "I rang up Patricia this morning, but she could not
+remember your address."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia gasped; but, seeing the effect of the "grey lie" (it was not
+quite innocent enough to be called a white lie, she told herself) she
+forgave it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+During tea Lady Tanagra and Bowen set to to "play themselves in," as
+Lady Tanagra afterwards expressed it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Poor Aunt Adelaide," Patricia murmured to herself, "they'll turn her
+giddy young head."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And now," Lady Tanagra began when Bowen had taken Miss Brent's cup
+from her.  "I must explain all about this little romance and how it
+came about."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia caught Bowen's eye, and saw in it a look of eager interest.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Patricia wanted to do war work in her spare time," continued Lady
+Tanagra, "so she applied to the V.A.D. at St. George's Crescent.  I am
+on the committee and, by a happy chance," Lady Tanagra smiled across to
+Patricia, "she was sent to me.  I saw she was not strong and dissuaded
+her."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Brent nodded approval.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I explained," continued Lady Tanagra, "that the work was very hard,
+and that it was not necessarily patriotic to overwork so as to get ill.
+Doctors have quite enough to do."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Again Miss Brent nodded agreement.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think we liked each other from the first," again Lady Tanagra smiled
+across at Patricia, "and I asked her to come and have tea with me, and
+we became friends.  Finally, one day when we were enjoying a quiet talk
+here in the lounge, this big brother of mine comes along and spoils
+everything."  Lady Tanagra regarded Bowen with reproachful eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Spoiled everything?" enquired Miss Brent.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes; by falling in love with my friend, and in a most treacherous
+manner she must do the same."  Lady Tanagra's tone was matter-of-fact
+enough to deceive a misanthropist.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia's cheeks burned and her eyes fell beneath the gaze of the
+others.  She felt as a man might who reads his own obituary notices.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And why was I not told, her sole surviving relative?"  Miss Brent
+rapped out the question with the air of a counsel for the prosecution.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That was my fault," broke in Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Three pairs of eyes were instantly turned upon him.  Miss Brent
+suspicious, Lady Tanagra admiring, Patricia wondering.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And why, may I ask?" enquired Miss Brent.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wanted it to be a secret between Patricia and me," explained Bowen
+easily.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But, Lady Tanagra&mdash;&mdash;"  There was a note in Miss Brent's voice that
+Patricia recognised as a soldier does the gas-gong.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh!" replied Bowen, "she finds out everything; but I only told her at
+lunch to-day."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And he told me as if I had not already discovered the fact for
+myself," laughed Lady Tanagra.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Patricia wanted to tell you," continued Bowen.  "She has often talked
+of you (Patricia felt sure Aunt Adelaide must hear her start of
+surprise); but I wanted to wait until we could go to you together and
+confess."  Bowen smiled straight into his listener's eyes, a quiet,
+friendly smile that would have disarmed a gorgon.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+For a few moments there was silence.  Miss Brent was thinking, thinking
+as a judge thinks who is about to deliver sentence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And Lady Meyfield, does she know?" she enquired.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Without giving Bowen a chance to reply Lady Tanagra rushed in as if
+fearful that he might make a false move.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That is another of Peter's follies, keeping it from mother.  He argued
+that if the engagement were officially announced, the family would take
+up all Patricia's time, and he would see nothing of her.  Oh! Peter's
+very selfish sometimes, I am to say; but," she added with inspiration,
+"every thing will have to come out now."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of course!"  Patricia started at the decision in Miss Brent's tone.
+She looked across at Bowen, who was regarding Lady Tanagra with an
+admiration that amounted almost to reverence.  As he looked up
+Patricia's eyes fell.  What was happening to her?  She was getting
+further into the net woven by her own folly.  Lady Tanagra was getting
+them out of the tangle into which they had got themselves; but was she
+not involving them in a worse?  Patricia knew her aunt, Lady Tanagra
+did not.  Therein lay the key to the whole situation.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Brent rose to go.  Patricia saw that judgment was to be deferred.
+She shook hands with Lady Tanagra and Bowen and, finally, turning to
+Patricia said:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think, Patricia, that you have been very indiscreet in not taking me
+into your confidence, your sole surviving relative," and with that she
+went, having refused Lady Tanagra's offer to drive her to her hotel,
+pleading that she had another call to make.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When Bowen returned from seeing Miss Brent into a taxi, the three
+culprits regarded each other.  All felt that they had come under the
+ban of Miss Brent's displeasure.  It was Lady Tanagra who broke the
+silence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, we're all in it now up to the neck," she laughed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bowen smiled happily; but Patricia looked alarmed.  Lady Tanagra went
+over to her and bending down kissed her lightly on the cheek.  Patricia
+looked up, and Bowen saw that her eyes were suspiciously moist.  With a
+murmured apology about a note he was expecting he left the room.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+That night the three dined at the Quadrant, "to get to know each
+other," as Lady Tanagra said.  When Patricia reached Galvin House,
+having refused to allow Bowen to see her home, she was conscious of
+having spent another happy evening.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Up to the neck in it," she murmured as she tossed back her hair and
+began to brush it for the night, "over the top of our heads, I should
+say."
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap10"></A>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER X
+</H3>
+
+<H4 ALIGN="center">
+MISS BRENT'S STRATEGY
+</H4>
+
+<P>
+Having become reconciled to what she regarded as Patricia's matrimonial
+plans, although strongly disapproving of her deplorable flippancy, Miss
+Brent decided that her niece's position must be established in the eyes
+of her prospective relatives-in-law.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Brent was proud of her family, but still prouder of the fact that
+the founder had come over with that extremely dubious collection of
+notables introduced into England by William of Normandy.  To Miss
+Brent, William the Conqueror was what <I>The Mayflower</I> is to all
+ambitious Americans&mdash;a social jumping-off point.  There were no army
+lists in 1066, or passengers' lists in 1620.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+No one could say with any degree of certainty what it was that Geoffrey
+Brent did for, or knew about, his ducal master; but it was sufficiently
+important to gain for him a grant of lands, which he had no more right
+to occupy than the Norman had to bestow.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+After careful thought Miss Brent had decided upon her line of
+operations.  Geoffrey Brent was to be used as a corrective to
+Patricia's occupation.  No family, Miss Brent argued, could be expected
+to welcome with open arms a girl who earned her living as the secretary
+of an unknown member of parliament.  She foresaw complications, fierce
+opposition, possibly an attempt to break off the engagement.  To defeat
+this Geoffrey Brent was to be disinterred and flung into the conflict,
+and Patricia was to owe to her aunt the happiness that was to be hers.
+Incidentally Miss Brent saw in this circumstance a very useful
+foundation upon which to build for herself a position in the future.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Brent had made up her mind upon two points.  One that she would
+call upon Lady Meyfield, the other that Patricia's engagement must be
+announced.  Debrett told her all she wanted to know about the Bowens,
+and she strongly disapproved of what she termed "hole-in-the-corner
+engagements."  The marriage of a Brent to a Bowen was to her an
+alliance, carrying with it certain social responsibilities,
+consequently Society must be advised of what was impending.  Romance
+was a by-product that did not concern either Miss Brent or Society.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Purpose and decision were to Miss Brent what wings and tail are to the
+swallow: they propelled and directed her.  Her mind once made up, to
+change it would have appeared to Miss Brent an unpardonable sign of
+weakness.  Circumstances might alter, thrones totter, but Miss Brent's
+decisions would remain unshaken.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+On the day following her meeting with Lady Tanagra and Bowen, Miss
+Brent did three things.  She transferred to "The Mayfair Hotel" for one
+night, she prepared an announcement of the engagement for <I>The Morning
+Post</I>, and she set out to call upon Lady Meyfield in Grosvenor Square.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The transference to "The Mayfair Hotel" served a double purpose.  It
+would impress the people at the newspaper office, and it would also
+show that Patricia's kinswoman was of some importance.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As Patricia was tapping out upon a typewriter the halting eloquence of
+Mr. Arthur Bonsor, Miss Brent was being whirled in a taxi first to the
+office of <I>The Morning Post</I> and then on to Grosvenor Square.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I fully appreciate," tapped Patricia with wandering attention, "the
+national importance of pigs."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Miss Brent!" announced Lady Meyfield's butler.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Brent found herself gazing into a pair of violet eyes that were
+smiling a greeting out of a gentle face framed in white hair.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How do you do!"  Lady Meyfield was endeavouring to recall where she
+could have met her caller.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I felt it was time the families met," announced Miss Brent.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Meyfield smiled, that gentle reluctant smile so characteristic of
+her.  She was puzzled; but too well-bred to show it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Won't you have some tea?"  She looked about her, then fixing her eyes
+upon a dark man in khaki, with smouldering eyes, called to him,
+introduced him, and had just time to say:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Godfrey, see that Miss Brent has some tea," when a rush of callers
+swept Miss Brent and Captain Godfrey Elton further into the room.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Brent looked about her with interest.  She had read of how Lady
+Meyfield had turned her houses, both town and country, into
+convalescent homes for soldiers; but she was surprised to see men in
+hospital garb mixing freely with the other guests.  Elton saw her
+surprise.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Lady Meyfield has her own ideas of what is best," he remarked as he
+handed her a cup of tea.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Brent looked up interrogatingly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She had some difficulty at first," continued Elton; "but eventually
+she got her own way as she always does.  Now the official hospitals
+send her their most puzzling cases and she cures them."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How?" enquired Miss Brent with interest.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Imagination," said Elton, bowing to a pretty brunette at the other
+side of the room.  "She is too wise to try and fatten a canary on a dog
+biscuit."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Does she keep canaries then?" enquired Miss Brent.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm afraid that was only my clumsy effort at metaphor," responded
+Elton with a disarming smile.  "She adopts human methods.  They are
+generally successful."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Elton went on to describe something of the success that had attended
+Lady Meyfield's hostels, as she called them.  They were famous
+throughout the Service.  When war broke out someone had suggested that
+she should use her tact and knowledge of human nature in treating cases
+that defied the army M.O.'s.  "A tyrant is the first victim of tact,"
+Godfrey Elton had said of Lord Meyfield, and in his ready acquiescence
+in his lady's plans Lord Meyfield had tacitly concurred.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Meyfield had conferred with her lord in respect to all her plans
+and arrangements, until he had come to regard the hostels as the
+children of his own brain, admirably controlled and conducted by his
+wife.  He seldom appeared, keeping to the one place free from the flood
+of red, white, and blue&mdash;his library.  Here with his books and
+terra-cottas he "grew old with a grace worthy of his rank," as Elton
+phrased it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Meyfield's "cases" were mostly those of shell-shock, or nervous
+troubles.  She studied each patient's needs, and decided whether he
+required diversion or quiet: if diversion, he was sent to her town
+house; if quiet, he went to one of her country houses.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At first it had been thought that a woman could not discipline a number
+of men; but Lady Meyfield had settled this by allowing them to
+discipline themselves.  All misdemeanours were reported to and judged
+by a committee of five elected by ballot from among the patients.
+Their decisions were referred to Lady Meyfield for ratification.  The
+result was that in no military hospital, or convalescent home, in the
+country was the discipline so good.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Brent listened perfunctorily to Elton's description of Lady
+Meyfield's success.  She had not come to Grosvenor Square to hear about
+hostels, or the curing of shell-shocked soldiers, and her eyes roved
+restlessly about the room.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You know Lord Peter?" she enquired at length.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Intimately," Elton replied as he took her cup from her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you like him?"  Miss Brent was always direct.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Unquestionably."  Elton's tone was that of a man who found nothing
+unusual either in the matter or method of interrogation.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is he steady?" was the next question.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"As a rock," responded Elton, beginning to enjoy a novel experience.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why doesn't he live here?" demanded Miss Brent.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who, Peter?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Brent nodded.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No room.  The soldiers, you know," he added.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No room for her own son?"  Miss Brent's tone was in itself an
+accusation against Lady Meyfield of unnaturalness.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh!  Peter understands," was Elton's explanation.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh!"  Miss Brent looked sharply at him.  For a minute there was
+silence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You have been wounded?"  Miss Brent indicated the blue band upon his
+arm.  Her question arose, not from any interest she felt; but she
+required time in which to reorganise her attack.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am only waiting for my final medical board, as I hope," Elton
+replied.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You know Lady Tanagra?"  Miss Brent was feeling some annoyance with
+this extremely self-possessed young man.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes," was Elton's reply.  He wondered if the next question would deal
+with her steadiness.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose you are a friend of the family?" was Miss Brent's next
+question.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Elton bowed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Good afternoon, sir."  The speaker was a soldier in hospital blue, a
+rugged little man known among his fellows as "Uncle."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Hullo!  Uncle, how are you?" said Elton, shaking hands.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Brent noticed a warmth in Elton's tone that was in marked contrast
+to the even tone of courtesy with which he had answered her questions.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, just 'oppin' on to 'eaven, sir," replied Uncle.  "Sort of sittin'
+up an' takin' notice."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Elton introduced Uncle to Miss Brent, an act that seemed to her quite
+unnecessary.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And where were you wounded?" asked Miss Brent conventionally.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Clean through the buttocks, mum," replied Uncle simply.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Brent flushed and cast a swift glance at Elton, whose face showed
+no sign.  She turned to Uncle and regarded him severely; but he was
+blissfully unaware of having offended.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Can't sit down now, mum, without it 'urtin'," added Uncle,
+interpreting Miss Brent's steady gaze as betokening interest.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, Goddy!  I've been trying to fight my way across to you for hours."
+The pretty brunette to whom Elton had bowed joined the group.  "I've
+been giving you the glad eye all the afternoon and you merely bow.
+Well, Uncle, how's the wound?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Brent gasped.  She was unaware that Uncle's wound was the standing
+joke among all Lady Meyfield's guests.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh!  I'm gettin' on, thank you," said Uncle cheerfully.  "Mustn't
+complain."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Isn't he a darling?"  The girl addressed herself to Miss Brent, who
+merely stared.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you refer to Uncle or to me?" enquired Elton.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why both, of course; but&mdash;" she paused and, screwing up her piquante
+little face in thought she added, "but I think Uncle's the darlinger
+though, don't you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Again she challenged Miss Brent.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Good job my missis can't 'ear 'er," was Uncle's comment to Elton.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There, you see!" cried the girl gaily, "Uncle talks about his wife
+when I make love to him, and as for Goddy," she turned and regarded
+Elton with a quizzical expression, "he treats my passion with a look
+that clearly says prunes and prisms."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Brent's head was beginning to whirl.  Somewhere at the back of her
+mind was the unuttered thought, What would Little Milstead think of
+such conversation?  She was brought back to Lady Meyfield's
+drawing-room by hearing the brunette once more addressing her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They're the two most interesting men in the room.  I call them the
+Dove and the Serpent.  Uncle has the guilelessness of the dove, whilst
+Godfrey has all the wisdom of the serpent.  The three of us together
+would make a most perfect Garden of Eden.  Wouldn't we, Goddy?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are getting a little confused, Peggy," said Elton.  "This is not a
+fancy dress&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Stop him, someone!" cried the brunette, "he's going to say something
+naughty."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Elton smiled, Miss Brent continued to stare, whilst Uncle with a grin
+of admiration cried:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Lor', don't she run on!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now come along, Uncle!" cried the girl.  "I've found some topping
+chocolates, a new kind.  They're priceless," and she dragged Uncle off
+to the end of the table.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who was that?" demanded Miss Brent of Elton, disapproval in her look
+and tone.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Lady Peggy Bristowe," replied Elton.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Brent was impressed.  The Bristowes traced their ancestry so far
+back as to make William the Norman's satellites look almost upstarts.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She is a little overpowering at first, isn't she?" remarked Elton,
+smiling in spite of himself at the conflicting emotions depicted upon
+Miss Brent's face; but Lady Peggy gave her no time to reply.  She was
+back again like a shaft of April sunshine.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Here, open your mouth, Goddy," she cried, "they're delicious."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Elton did as he was bid, and Lady Peggy popped a chocolate in, then
+wiping her finger and thumb daintily upon a ridiculously small piece of
+cambric, she stood in front of Elton awaiting his verdict.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Like it?" she demanded, her head on one side like a bird, and her
+whole attention concentrated upon Elton.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Apart from a suggestion of furniture polish," began Elton, "it is&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Hun!" cried Lady Peggy as she whisked over to where she had left Uncle.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Lady Peggy is rather spoiled," said Elton to Miss Brent.  "I fear she
+trades upon having the prettiest ankles in London."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Brent turned upon Elton one glance, then with head in air and lips
+tightly compressed, she stalked away.  Elton watched her in surprise,
+unconscious that his casual reference to the ankles of the daughter of
+a peer had been to Miss Brent the last straw.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Hate at the prow and virtue at the helm," he murmured as she
+disappeared.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Brent was now convinced beyond all power of argument to the
+contrary that her call had landed her in the very midst of an
+ultra-fast set.  She was unaware that Godfrey Elton was notorious among
+his friends for saying the wrong thing to the right people.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You never know what Godfrey will say," his Aunt Caroline had remarked
+on one occasion when he had just confided to the vicar that all
+introspective women have thick ankles, "and the dear vicar is so
+sensitive."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It seemed that whenever Elton elected to emerge from the mantle of
+silence with which he habitually clothed himself, it was in the
+presence of either a sensitive vicar or someone who was sensitive
+without being a vicar.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Once when Lady Gilcray had rebuked him for openly admiring Jenny Adam's
+legs, which were displayed each night to an appreciative public at the
+Futility Theatre, Elton had replied, "A woman's legs are to me what
+they are to God," which had silenced her Ladyship, who was not quite
+sure whether it was rank blasphemy or a classical quotation; but she
+never forgave him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Brent made several efforts to approach Lady Meyfield to have a few
+minutes' talk with her about the subject of her call; but without
+success.  She was always surrounded either by arriving or departing
+guests, and soldiers seemed perpetually hovering about ready to pounce
+upon her at the first opportunity.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At last Miss Brent succeeded in attracting her hostess' attention, and
+before she knew exactly what had happened, Lady Meyfield had shaken
+hands, thanked her for coming, hoped she would come again soon, and
+Miss Brent was walking downstairs her mission unaccomplished.  Her only
+consolation was the knowledge that within the next day or two <I>The
+Morning Post</I> would put matters upon a correct footing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A mile away Patricia was tapping out upon her typewriter that "pigs are
+the potential saviours of the Empire."
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap11"></A>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XI
+</H3>
+
+<H4 ALIGN="center">
+THE DEFECTION OF MR. TRIGGS
+</H4>
+
+<P>
+"Well, me dear, how goes it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia looked up from a Blue Book, from which she was laboriously
+extracting statistics.  Mr. Triggs stood before her, florid and happy.
+He was wearing a new black and white check suit, a white waistcoat and
+a red tie, whilst in his hand he carried a white felt top-hat with a
+black band.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It doesn't go at all well," said Patricia, smiling.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What's the matter, me dear?" he enquired anxiously.  "You look fagged
+out."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh!  I'm endeavouring to extract information about potatoes from
+stupid Blue Books," said Patricia, leaning back in her chair.  "Why
+can't they let potatoes grow without writing about them?" she asked
+plaintively, screwing up her eyebrows.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'E ain't much good, is 'e?" enquired Mr. Triggs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who?" asked Patricia in surprise.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A. B.," said Mr. Triggs, lowering his voice and looking round
+furtively, "Dull, 'e strikes me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, you see, Mr. Triggs, he's rising, and you can't rise and be
+risen at the same time, can you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Triggs shook his head doubtfully.  "'E'll no more rise than your
+salary, me dear," he said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh! what a gloomy person you are to-day, Mr. Triggs, and you look like
+a ray of sunshine."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"D'you like it?" enquired Mr. Triggs, smiling happily as he stood back
+that Patricia might obtain a good view of his new clothes.  She now saw
+that over his black boots he wore a pair of immaculate white spats.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You look just like a duke.  But where are you going, and why all this
+splendour?" asked Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Triggs beamed upon her.  "I'm glad you like it, me dear.  I was
+thinking about you when I ordered it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia looked up and smiled.  There was something to her strangely
+lovable in this old man's simplicity.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I come to take you to the Zoo," he announced.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To the Zoo?" cried Patricia in unfeigned surprise.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Triggs nodded, hugely enjoying the effect of the announcement.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now run away and get your hat on."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But I couldn't possibly go, I've got heaps of things to do," protested
+Patricia.  "Why Mrs. Bonsor would be&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Never you mind about 'Ettie; I'll manage 'er.  She'll&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I thought I heard your voice, father."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Both Patricia and Mr. Triggs started guiltily; they had not heard Mrs.
+Bonsor enter the room.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'Ullo, 'Ettie!" said Mr. Triggs, recovering himself.  "I just come to
+take this young lady to the Zoo."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do I look as bad as all that?" asked Patricia, conscious that her
+effort was a feeble one.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't you worry about your looks, me dear," said Mr. Triggs, "I'll
+answer for them.  Now go and get your 'at on."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But I really couldn't, Mr. Triggs," protested Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm afraid it's impossible for Miss Brent to go to-day, father," said
+Mrs. Bonsor evenly; but flashing a vindictive look at Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why?" enquired Mr. Triggs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I happen to know," continued Mrs. Bonsor, "that Arthur is very anxious
+for some work that Miss Brent is doing for him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What work?" enquired Mr. Triggs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh&mdash;er&mdash;something about&mdash;&mdash;"  Mrs. Bonsor looked appealingly at
+Patricia; but Patricia had no intention of helping her out.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well! if you can't remember what it is, it can't matter much, and I've
+set my mind on going to the Zoo this afternoon."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Very well, father.  If you will wait a few minutes I will go with you
+myself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You!" exclaimed Mr. Triggs in consternation.  "You and me at the Zoo!
+Why you said once the smell made you sick."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Father! how can you suggest such a thing?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But you did," persisted Mr. Triggs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I once remarked that I found the atmosphere a little trying."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Won't you come into the morning-room, father, there's something I want
+to speak to you about."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, I won't," snapped Mr. Triggs like a spoilt child, "I'm going to
+take Miss Brent to the Zoo."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But Arthur's work, father&mdash;&mdash;" began Mrs. Bonsor.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Very well then, 'Ettie," said Mr. Triggs, "you better tell A. B. that
+I'd like to 'ave a little talk with 'im to-morrow afternoon at
+Streatham, at three o'clock sharp.  See?  Don't forget!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Triggs was angry, and Mrs. Bonsor realised that she had gone too
+far.  Turning to Patricia she said:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you think it would matter if you put off what you are doing until
+to-morrow, Miss Brent?" she enquired.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think I ought to do it now, Mrs. Bonsor," replied Patricia demurely,
+determined to land Mrs. Bonsor more deeply into the mire if possible.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, if you'll run away and get your hat on, I will explain to Mr.
+Bonsor when he comes in."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia looked up, Mrs. Bonsor smiled at her, a frosty movement of her
+lips, from which her eyes seemed to dissociate themselves.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+During Patricia's absence Mr. Triggs made it abundantly clear to his
+daughter that he was displeased with her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Look 'ere, 'Ettie, if I 'ear any more of this nonsense," he said,
+"I'll take on Miss Brent as my own secretary, then I can take her to
+the Zoo every afternoon if I want to."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A look of fear came into Mrs. Bonsor's eyes.  One of the terrors of her
+life was that some designing woman would get hold of her father and
+marry him.  It did not require a very great effort of the imagination
+to foresee that the next step would be the cutting off of the allowance
+Mr. Triggs made his daughter.  Suppose Patricia were to marry her
+father?  What a scandal and what a humiliation to be the stepdaughter
+of her husband's ex-secretary.  Mrs. Bonsor determined to capitulate.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm very sorry, father; but if you had let us know we could have
+arranged differently.  However, everything is all right now."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, it isn't," said Mr. Triggs peevishly.  "You've tried to spoil my
+afternoon.  Fancy you a-coming to the Zoo with me.  You with your 'igh
+and mighty ways.  The truth is you're ashamed of your old father,
+although you ain't ashamed of 'is money."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was with a feeling of gratitude that Mrs. Bonsor heard Patricia
+enter the room.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm ready, Mr. Triggs," she announced, smiling.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Triggs followed her out of the room without a word.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You'll explain to Mr. Bonsor that I've been kidnapped, will you not?"
+said Patricia to Mrs. Bonsor, rather from the feeling that something
+should be said than from any particular desire that Mr. Bonsor should
+be placated.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Certainly, Miss Brent," replied Mrs. Bonsor, with another unconvincing
+smile.  "I hope you'll have a pleasant afternoon."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Tried to spoil my afternoon, she did," mumbled Mr. Triggs in the tone
+of a child who has discovered that a playmate has endeavoured to rob
+him of his marbles.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia laughed and, slipping her hand through his arm, said:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now, you mustn't be cross, or else you'll spoil my afternoon, and
+we're going to have such a jolly time together."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Instantly the shadow fell from Mr. Triggs's face and he turned upon
+Patricia and beamed, pressing her hand against his side.  Then with
+another sudden change he said, "'Ettie annoys me when she's like that;
+but I've given 'er something to think about," he added, pleased at the
+recollection of his parting shot.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia smiled at him, she never made any endeavour to probe into the
+domestic difficulties of the Triggs-Bonsor menage.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you know what I told 'er?" enquired Mr. Triggs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia shook her head.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I said that if she wasn't careful I'd engage you as my own secretary.
+That made 'er sit up."  He chuckled at the thought of his master-stroke.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But you've got nothing for me to secretary, Mr. Triggs," said
+Patricia, not quite understanding where the joke came.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ah!  'Ettie understands.  'Ettie knows that every man that ain't
+married marries 'is secretary, and she's dead afraid of me marrying."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Am I to take that as a proposal, Mr. Triggs?" asked Patricia demurely.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Triggs chuckled.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now we'll forget about everything except that we are truants," cried
+Patricia.  "I've earned a holiday, I think.  On Sunday and Monday there
+was Aunt Adelaide, yesterday it was national importance of pigs and&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Hi!  Hi!  Taxi!  Taxi!" Mr. Triggs yelled, dashing forward and
+dragging Patricia after him.  A taxi was crossing a street about twenty
+yards distance.  Mr. Triggs was impulsive in all things.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Having secured the taxi and handed Patricia in, he told the man to
+drive to the Zoo, and sank back with a sigh of pleasure.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now we're going to 'ave a very 'appy afternoon, me dear," he said.
+"Don't you worry about pigs."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Arrived at the Zoo, Mr. Triggs made direct for the monkey-house.
+Patricia, a little puzzled at his choice, followed obediently.  Arrived
+there he walked round the cages, looking keenly at the animals.
+Finally selecting a little monkey with a blue face, he pointed it out
+to Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They was just like that little chap," he said eagerly.  "That one over
+there, see 'im eating a nut?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, I see him," said Patricia; "but who was just like him?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll tell you when we get outside.  Now come along."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia followed Mr. Triggs, puzzled to account for his strange manner
+and sudden lack of interest in the monkey-house.  They walked along for
+some minutes in silence, then, when they came to a quiet spot, Mr.
+Triggs turned to Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You see, me dear," he said, "it was there that I asked her."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That you asked who what?" enquired Patricia, utterly at a loss.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You see we'd been walking out for nearly a year; I was a foreman then.
+I 'ad tickets given me for the Zoo one Sunday, so I took 'er.  When we
+was in the monkey-house there was a couple of little chaps just like
+that blue-faced little beggar we saw just now."  There was a note of
+affection in Mr. Triggs's voice as he spoke of the little blue-faced
+monkey.  "And one of 'em 'ad 'is arm round the other and was a-making
+love to 'er as 'ard as ever 'e could go," continued Mr. Triggs.  "And I
+says to Emily, just to see 'ow she'd take it, 'That might be you an'
+me, Emily,' and she blushed and looked down, and then of course I knew,
+and I asked 'er to marry me.  I don't think either of us 'ad cause to
+regret it," added the old man huskily.  "God knows I 'adn't."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia felt that she wanted both to laugh and to cry.  She could say
+nothing, words seemed so hopelessly inadequate.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You see this is our wedding-day, that's why I wanted to come,"
+continued Mr. Triggs, blinking his eyes, in which there was a
+suspicious moisture.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh! thank you so much for bringing me," said Patricia, and she knew as
+she saw the bright smile with which Mr. Triggs looked at her that she
+had said the right thing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Thirty years and never a cross word," he murmured.  "She'd 'ave liked
+you, me dear," he added; "she 'ad wonderful instinct, and everybody
+loved her.  'Ere, but look at me," he suddenly broke off, "spoilin'
+your afternoon, and you lookin' so tired.  Come along," and Mr. Triggs
+trotted off in the direction of the seals, who were intimating clearly
+that they thought that something must be wrong with the official clock.
+They were quite ready for their meal.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+For two hours Patricia and Mr. Triggs wandered about the Zoo, roving
+from one group of animals to another, behaving rather like two children
+who had at last escaped from the bondage of the school-room.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+After tea they strolled through Regent's Park, watching the squirrels
+and talking about the thousand and one things that good comrades have
+to talk about.  Mr. Triggs told something of his early struggles, how
+his wife had always believed in him and been his helpmate and loyal
+comrade, how he missed her, and how, when she had died, she had urged
+him to marry again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sam," she had said, "you want a woman to look after you; you're
+nothing but a great, big baby."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And she was right, me dear," said Mr. Triggs huskily, "she was right
+as she always was, only she didn't know that there couldn't ever be
+anyone after 'er."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Slowly and tactfully Patricia guided the old man's thoughts away from
+the sad subject of his wife's death, and soon had him laughing gaily at
+some stories she had heard the night previously from the Bowens.  Mr.
+Triggs was as easily diverted from sadness to laughter as a child.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was half-past seven when they left the Park gates, and Patricia,
+looking suddenly at her wristlet watch, cried out, "Oh!  I shall be
+late for dinner, I must fly!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You're going to dine with me, me dear," announced Mr. Triggs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, but I can't," said Patricia; "I&mdash;I&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why can't you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I haven't told Mrs. Craske-Morton."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who's she?" enquired Mr. Triggs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of course it doesn't matter, how stupid of me," said Patricia; "I
+should love to dine with you, Mr. Triggs, if you will let me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's all right," said Mr. Triggs, heaving a sigh of relief.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They walked down Portland Place and Regent Street until they reached
+the Quadrant.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We'll 'ave dinner in the Grill-room at the Quadrant," announced Mr.
+Triggs, with the air of a man who knows his way about town.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, no, not there, please!" cried Patricia, in a panic.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not there!" Mr. Triggs looked at her, surprise and disappointment in
+his voice.  "Why not?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh!  I'd sooner not go there if you don't mind.  Couldn't we go
+somewhere else?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+For a moment Mr. Triggs did not reply.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There's someone there I don't want to meet," said Patricia, then a
+moment afterwards she realised her mistake.  Mr. Triggs looked down at
+his clothes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose they are a bit out of it for the evening," he remarked in a
+hurt voice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, Mr. Triggs, how could you?" said Patricia.  "Now I shall insist on
+dining in the Quadrant Grill-room.  If you won't come with me I'll go
+alone."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not if you don't want to go, me dear, it doesn't matter.  Though I do
+like to 'ear the band.  We can go anywhere."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, Quadrant or nothing," said Patricia, hoping that Bowen would be
+dining out.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are you sure, me dear?" said Mr. Triggs, hesitating on the threshold.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nothing will change me," announced Patricia, with decision.  "Now you
+can see about getting a table while I go and powder my nose."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When Patricia rejoined Mr. Triggs in the vestibule of the Grill-room he
+was looking very unhappy and downcast.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There ain't a table nowhere," he said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, what a shame!" cried Patricia.  "Whatever shall we do?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know," said Mr. Triggs helplessly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are you sure?" persisted Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That red-'eaded fellow over there said there wasn't nothing to be 'ad."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am sorry," said Patricia, seeing Triggs's disappointment.  "I
+suppose we shall have to go somewhere else after all."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Won't you and your friend share my table, Patricia?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia turned round as if someone had hit her, her face flaming.
+"Oh!" she cried.  "You?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have a table booked, and if you will dine with me you will be
+conferring a real favour upon a lonely fellow-creature."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bowen smiled from Patricia to Mr. Triggs, who was looking at him in
+surprise.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh! where are my manners?" cried Patricia as she introduced the two
+men.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Triggs's eyes bulged at the mention of Bowen's title.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now, Mr. Triggs," said Bowen, "won't you add the weight of your
+persuasion to mine, and persuade Miss Brent that the only thing to do
+is for you both to dine with me and save me from boredom?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, it was to 'ave been my treat," said Mr. Triggs, not quite sure
+of his ground.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But you can afford to be generous.  Can't you share her with me, just
+for this evening?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Triggs beamed and turned questioningly to Patricia, who, seeing
+that if she declined it would be a real disappointment to him, said:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I suppose we must under the circumstances."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You're not very gracious, Patricia, are you?" said Bowen comically.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia laughed.  "Well, come along, I'm starving," she said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Many heads were turned to look at the curious trio, headed by the
+obsequious maître d'hôtel, as they made their way towards Bowen's table.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wonder what 'Ettie would say," whispered Mr. Triggs to Patricia, "me
+dining with a lord, and 'im being a pal of yours, too."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia smiled.  She was wondering what trick Fate would play her next.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The meal was a gay one.  Bowen and Mr. Triggs immediately became
+friends and pledged each other in champagne.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Triggs told of their visit to the Zoo and of the anniversary it
+celebrated.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then you are a believer in marriage, Mr. Triggs," said Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A believer in it!  I should just think I am," said Mr. Triggs.  "I
+wish she'd get married," he added, nodding his head in the direction of
+Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She's going to," said Bowen quietly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Triggs sat up as if someone had hit him in the small of the back.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Going to," he cried.  "Who's the man?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You have just pledged him in Moet and Chandon," replied Bowen quietly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You going to marry 'er?"  Unconsciously Mr. Triggs raised his voice in
+his surprise, and several people at adjacent tables turned and looked
+at the trio.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Hush!  Mr. Triggs," said Patricia, feeling her cheeks burn.  Bowen
+merely smiled.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well I <I>am</I> glad," said Mr. Triggs heartily, and seizing Bowen's hand
+he shook it cordially.  "God bless my soul!" he added, "and you never
+told me."  He turned reproachful eyes upon Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It&mdash;it&mdash;&mdash;" she began.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You see, it's only just been arranged," said Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia flashed him a grateful look, he seemed always to be coming to
+her rescue.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"God bless my soul!" repeated Mr. Triggs.  "But you'll be 'appy, both
+of you, I'll answer for that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then I may take it that you're on my side, Mr. Triggs," said Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"On your side?" queried Mr. Triggs, not understanding.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes," said Bowen, "you see Patricia believes in long engagements,
+whereas I believe in short ones.  I want her to marry me at once; but
+she will not.  She wants to wait until we are both too old to enjoy
+each other's society, and she is too deaf to hear me say how charming
+she is."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If you love each other you'll never be too old to enjoy each other's
+company," said Mr. Triggs seriously.  "Still, I'm with you," he added,
+"and I'll do all I can to persuade 'er to hurry on the day."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, Mr. Triggs!" cried Patricia reproachfully, "you have gone over to
+the enemy."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think he has merely placed himself on the side of the angels," said
+Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And now," said Mr. Triggs, "you must both of you dine with me one
+night to celebrate the event.  Oh Lor'!" he exclaimed.  "What will
+'Ettie say?"  Then turning to Bowen he added oy way of explanation,
+"'Ettie's my daughter, rather stiff, she is.  She looks down on Miss
+Brent because she's only A. B.'s secretary.  'Ettie's got to learn a
+lot about the world," he added oracularly.  "My, this'll be a shock to
+'er."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm afraid I can't&mdash;&mdash;" began Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You're not going to say you can't both dine with me?" said Mr. Triggs,
+blankly disappointed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think Patricia will reconsider her decision," said Bowen quietly.
+"She wouldn't be so selfish as to deny two men an evening's happiness."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She's one of the best," said Mr. Triggs, with decision.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mr. Triggs, I think you and I have at least one thing in common," said
+Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap12"></A>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XII
+</H3>
+
+<H4 ALIGN="center">
+A BOMBSHELL
+</H4>
+
+<P>
+"Good morning, Miss Brent."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia was surprised at the graciousness of Mrs. Bonsor's salutation,
+particularly after the episode of the Zoo on the previous afternoon.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Good morning," she responded, and made to go upstairs to take off her
+hat and coat.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I congratulate you," proceeded Mrs. Bonsor in honeyed tones; "but I'm
+just a little hurt that you did not confide in me."  Mrs. Bonsor's tone
+was that of a trusted friend of many years' standing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Confide!" repeated Patricia in a matter-of-fact tone.  "Confide what,
+Mrs. Bonsor?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Your engagement to Lord Peter Bowen.  Such a surprise.  You're a very
+lucky girl.  I hope you'll bring Lord Peter to call."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia listened mechanically to Mrs. Bonsor's inanities.  Suddenly
+she realised their import.  What had happened?  How did she know?  Had
+Mr. Triggs told her?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How did you know?" Patricia enquired.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Haven't you seen <I>The Morning Post</I>?" enquired Mrs. Bonsor.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"<I>The Morning Post</I>!" repeated Patricia, in consternation; "but&mdash;but I
+don't understand."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then isn't it true?" enquired Mrs. Bonsor, scenting a mystery.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I&mdash;I&mdash;&mdash;" began Patricia, then with inspiration added, "I must be
+getting on, I've got a lot to do to make up for yesterday."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But isn't it true, Miss Brent?" persisted Mrs. Bonsor.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then from half-way up the stairs Patricia turned and, in a spurt of
+mischief, cried, "If you see it in <I>The Morning Post</I> it is so, Mrs.
+Bonsor."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When Patricia entered the library Mr. Bonsor was fussing about with
+letters and papers, a habit he had when nervous.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm so sorry about yesterday afternoon, Mr. Bonsor," said Patricia;
+"but Mrs. Bonsor seemed to wish me to&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not at all, not at all, Miss Brent," said Mr. Bonsor nervously.
+"I&mdash;I&mdash;&mdash;" then he paused.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I know what you're going to say, Mr. Bonsor, but please don't say it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Bonsor looked at her in surprise.  "Not say it?" he said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh! everybody's congratulating me, and I'm tired.  Shall we get on
+with the letters?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Bonsor was disappointed.  He had prepared a dainty little speech of
+congratulation, which he had intended to deliver as Patricia entered
+the room.  Mr. Bonsor was always preparing speeches which he never
+delivered.  There was not an important matter that had been before the
+House since he had represented Little Dollington upon which he had not
+prepared a speech.  He had criticised every member of the Government
+and Opposition.  He had prepared party speeches and anti-party
+speeches, patriotic speeches and speeches of protest.  He had called
+upon the House of Commons to save the country, and upon the country to
+save the House of Commons.  He had woven speeches of splendid optimism
+and speeches of gloomy foreboding.  He had attacked ministers and
+defended ministers, seen himself attacked and had routed his enemies.
+He had prepared speeches to be delivered to his servants for domestic
+misdemeanour, speeches for Mr. Triggs, even for Mrs. Bonsor.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He had conceived speeches on pigs, speeches on potatoes, speeches on
+oil-cake, and speeches on officers' wives; in short, there was nothing
+in the world of his thoughts about which he had not prepared a speech.
+The one thing he did not do was to deliver these speeches.  They were
+wonderful things of his imagination, which seemed to defy
+crystallization into words.  So it was with the speech of
+congratulation that he had prepared for Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+That morning Patricia was distraite.  Her thoughts continued to wander
+to <I>The Morning Post</I> announcement, and she was anxious to get out to
+lunch in order to purchase a copy and see what was actually said.  Then
+her thoughts ran on to who was responsible for such an outrage; for
+Patricia regarded it as an outrage.  It was obviously Bowen who had
+done it in order to make her position still more ridiculous.  It was
+mean, she was not sure that it was not contemptible.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia was in the act of transcribing some particulars about infant
+mortality in England and Wales compared with that of Scotland, when the
+parlourmaid entered with a note.  Mr. Bonsor stretched out his hand for
+it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is for Miss Brent, sir," said the maid.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia looked up in surprise.  It was unusual for her to receive a
+note at the Bonsors'.  She opened the envelope mechanically and read:&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+"DEAREST,
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have just seen <I>The Morning Post</I>.  It is sweet of you to relent.
+You have made me very happy.  Will you dine with me to-night and when
+may I take you to Grosvenor Square?  My mother will want to see her new
+daughter-in-law.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I so enjoyed last night.  Surely the gods are on my side.
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+"PETER."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+Patricia read and re-read the note.  For a moment she felt ridiculously
+happy, then, with a swift change of mood she saw the humiliation of her
+situation.  Bowen thought it was she who had inserted the notice of the
+engagement.  What must he think of her?  It looked as if she had done
+it to burn his boats behind him.  Then suddenly she seized a pen and
+wrote:&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+"DEAR LORD PETER,
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I know nothing whatever about the announcement in <I>The Morning Post</I>,
+and I only heard of it when I arrived here.  I cannot dine with you
+to-night, and I am very angry and upset that anyone should have had the
+impertinence to interfere in my affairs.  I shall take up the matter
+with <I>The Morning Post</I> people and insist on a contradiction
+immediately.
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+"Yours sincerely,
+<BR>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"PATRICIA BRENT."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+With quick, decisive movements Patricia folded the note, addressed the
+envelope and handed it to the maid, then she turned to Mr. Bonsor.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am sorry to interrupt work, Mr. Bonsor; but that was rather an
+important note that I had to answer."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Bonsor smiled sympathetically.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At lunch-time Patricia purchased a copy of <I>The Morning Post</I>, and
+there saw in all its unblushing mendacity the announcement.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+"A marriage has been arranged and will shortly take place between Lord
+Peter Bowen, D.S.O., M.C., attached to the General Staff, son of the
+7th Marquess of Meyfield, and Patricia Brent, daughter of the late John
+Brent, of Little Milstead."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+"Why on earth must the ridiculous people put it at the top of the
+column?" she muttered aloud.  A man occupying an adjoining table at the
+place where she was lunching turned and looked at her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And now I must go back to potatoes, pigs, and babies," said Patricia
+to herself as she paid her bill and rose.  "Ugh!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She had scarcely settled down to her afternoon's work when the maid
+entered and announced, "Lord Peter Bowen to see you, miss."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh bother!" exclaimed Patricia.  "Tell him I'm busy, will you please?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The maid's jaw dropped; she was excellently trained, but no
+maid-servant could be expected to rise superior to such an
+extraordinary attitude on the part of a newly-engaged girl.  Nothing
+short of a butler who had lived in the best families could have risen
+to such an occasion.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But, Miss Brent&mdash;&mdash;" began Mr. Bonsor.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia turned and froze him with a look.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Will you give him my message, please, Fellers?" she said, and Fellers
+walked out a disillusioned young woman.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Two minutes later Mrs. Bonsor entered the room, flushed and excited.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, Miss Brent, that silly girl has muddled up things somehow!  Lord
+Peter Bowen is waiting for you in the morning-room.  I have just been
+talking to him and saying that I hope you will both dine with us one
+day next week."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The message was quite correct, Mrs. Bonsor.  I am very busy with pigs,
+and babies, and potatoes.  I really cannot add Lord Peter to my
+responsibilities at the moment."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Bonsor looked at Patricia as if she had suddenly gone mad.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But Miss Brent&mdash;&mdash;-" began Mrs. Bonsor, scandalised.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose I shall have to see him," said Patricia, rising with the air
+of one who has to perform an unpleasant task.  "I wish he'd stay at the
+War Office and leave me to do my work.  I suppose I shall have to write
+to Lord Derby about it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Bonsor glanced at Mr. Bonsor, who, however, was busily engaged in
+preparing an appropriate speech upon War Office methods, suggested by
+Patricia's remark about Lord Derby.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As Patricia entered the morning-room, Bowen came forward.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, Patricia! why will you persist in being a cold douche?  Why this
+morning I absolutely scandalised Peel by singing at the top of my voice
+whilst in my bath, and now.  Look at me now!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia looked at him, then she was forced to laugh.  He presented
+such a woebegone appearance.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But what on earth have I to do with your singing in your bath?" she
+enquired.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It was <I>The Morning Post</I> paragraph.  I thought everything was going
+to be all right after last night, and now I'm a door-mat again."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who inserted that paragraph?" enquired Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I rang up <I>The Morning Post</I> office and they told me that it was
+handed in by Miss Brent, who is staying at the Mayfair Hotel."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Aunt Adelaide!"  There was a depth of meaning in Patricia's tone as
+she uttered the two words, then turning to Bowen she enquired, "Did you
+tell them to contradict it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They asked me whether it were correct," he said, refusing to meet
+Patricia's eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What did you say?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I said it was."  He looked at her quizzically, like a boy who is
+expecting a severe scolding.  Patricia had to bite her lips to prevent
+herself from laughing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You told <I>The Morning Post</I> people that it was correct when you knew
+that it was wrong?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bowen hung his head.  "But it isn't wrong," he muttered.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You know very well that it is wrong and that I am not engaged to you,
+and that no marriage has been arranged or ever will be arranged.  Now I
+shall have to write to the editor and insist upon the statement being
+contradicted."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Good Lord!  Don't do that, Patricia," broke in Bowen.  "They'll think
+we've all gone mad."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And for once a newspaper editor will be right," was Patricia's comment.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And will you dine to-night, Pat?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia looked up.  This was the first time Bowen had used the
+diminutive of her name.  Somehow it sounded very intimate.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am afraid I have an&mdash;an&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The hesitation was her undoing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No; don't tell me fibs, please.  You will dine with me and then,
+afterwards, we will go on and see the mater.  She is dying to know you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+How boyish and lover-like Bowen was in spite of his twenty-eight years,
+and&mdash;and&mdash;how different everything might have been if&mdash;&mdash;  Patricia was
+awakened from her thoughts by hearing Bowen say:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Shall I pick you up here in the car?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, I&mdash;I've just told you I am engaged," she said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And I've just told you that I won't allow you to be engaged to anyone
+but me," was Bowen's answer.  "If you won't come and dine with me I'll
+come and play my hooter outside Galvin House until they send you out to
+get rid of me.  You know, Patricia, I'm an awful fellow when I've set
+my mind on anything, and I'm simply determined to marry you whether you
+like it or not."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Very well, I will dine with you to-night at half-past seven."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll pick you up at Galvin House at a quarter-past seven with the car."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Very well," said Patricia wearily.  It seemed ridiculous to try and
+fight against her fate, and at the back of her mind she had a plan of
+action, which she meant to put into operation.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now I must get back to my work.  Good-bye."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bowen opened the door of the morning-room.  Mrs. Bonsor was in the
+hall.  Patricia walked over to the library, leaving Bowen in Mrs.
+Bonsor's clutches.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, Lord Peter!" Mrs. Bonsor gushed.  "I hope you and Miss Brent will
+dine with us&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia shut the library door without waiting to hear Bowen's reply.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At five o'clock she gave up the unequal struggle with infant mortality
+statistics and walked listlessly across the Park to Galvin House.  She
+was tired and dispirited.  It was the weather, she told herself, London
+in June could be very trying, then there had been all that fuss over
+<I>The Morning Post</I> announcement.  At Galvin House she knew the same
+ordeal was awaiting her that she had passed through at Eaton Square.
+Mrs. Craske-Morton would be effusive, Miss Wangle would unbend, Miss
+Sikkum would simper, Mr. Bolton would be facetious, and all the others
+would be exactly what they had been all their lives, only a little more
+so as a result of <I>The Morning Post</I> paragraph.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Only the fact of Miss Wangle taking breakfast in bed had saved Patricia
+from the ordeal at breakfast.  Miss Wangle was the only resident at
+Galvin House who regularly took <I>The Morning Post</I>, it being "the dear
+bishop's favourite paper."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Arrived at Galvin House Patricia went straight to her room.  Dashing
+past Gustave, who greeted her with "Oh, mees!" struggling at the same
+time to extract from his pocket a newspaper.  Patricia felt that she
+should scream.  Had everyone in Galvin House bought a copy of that
+day's <I>Morning Post</I>, and would they all bring it out of their pockets
+and point out the passage to her?  She sighed wearily.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Suddenly she jumped up from the bed where she had thrown herself,
+seized her writing-case and proceeded to write feverishly.  At the end
+of half an hour she read and addressed three letters, stamping two of
+them.  The first was to the editor of <I>The Morning Post</I>, and ran:&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+"DEAR SIR,
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In your issue of to-day's date you make an announcement regarding a
+marriage having been arranged between Lord Peter Bowen and myself,
+which is entirely inaccurate.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am given to understand that this announcement was inserted on the
+authority of my aunt, Miss Adelaide Brent, and I must leave you to take
+what action you choose in relation to her.  As for myself, I will ask
+you to be so kind as to insert a contradiction of the statement in your
+next issue.
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+"I am,<BR>
+<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">"Yours faithfully,</SPAN><BR>
+<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 2em">"PATRICIA BRENT."</SPAN><BR>
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+Patricia always prided herself on the business-like quality of her
+letters.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The second letter was to Miss Brent.  It ran:&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+"DEAR AUNT ADELAIDE,
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have written to the editor of <I>The Morning Post</I> informing him that
+he must take such action as he sees fit against you for inserting your
+unauthorised statement that a marriage has been arranged between Lord
+Peter Bowen and me.  It may interest you to know that the engagement
+has been broken off as a result of your impulsive and ill-advised
+action.  Personally I think you have rather presumed on being my 'sole
+surviving relative.'
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+"Your affectionate niece,<BR>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"PATRICIA."<BR>
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+The third letter was to Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+"DEAR LORD PETER,
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have written to the editor of <I>The Morning Post</I>, asking him to
+contradict the inaccurate statement published in to-day's issue.  I am
+consumed with humiliation that such a thing should have been sent to
+him by a relative of mine, more particularly by a 'sole surviving
+relative.'  My aunt unfortunately epitomises in her personality all the
+least desirable characteristics to be found in relatives.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I cannot tell you how sorry I am about&mdash;oh, everything!  If you really
+want to save me from feeling thoroughly ashamed of myself you will not
+only forget me, but also a certain incident.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You have done me a great honour, I know, and you will add to it a
+great service if you will do as I ask and forget all about a folly that
+I have had cause bitterly to regret.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Please forgive me for not dining with you to-night and for breaking my
+word; but I am feeling very unwell and tired and I have gone to bed.
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+"Yours sincerely,<BR>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"PATRICIA BRENT."<BR>
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+Patricia's plan was to post the letters to Aunt Adelaide and <I>The
+Morning Post</I>, and leave the other with Gustave to be given to Bowen
+when he called, she would then shut herself in her room and plead a
+headache as an excuse for not being disturbed.  Thus she would escape
+Miss Wangle and her waves of interrogation.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As Patricia descended the stairs, Gustave was in the act of throwing
+open the door to Lady Tanagra.  It was too late to retreat.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ah! there you are," exclaimed Lady Tanagra as she passed the
+respectful Gustave in the hall.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia descended the remaining stairs slowly and with dragging steps.
+Lady Tanagra looked at her sharply.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Aren't we a nuisance?" cried she.  "There's nothing more persistent in
+nature than a Bowen.  Bruce's spider is quite a parochial affair in
+comparison," and she laughed lightly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia smiled as she welcomed Lady Tanagra.  For a moment she
+hesitated at the door of the lounge, then with a sudden movement she
+turned towards the stairs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Come up to my room," she said, "we can talk there."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was no cordiality in her voice.  Lady Tanagra noticed that she
+looked worn-out and ill.  Once the bedroom door was closed she turned
+to Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My poor Patricia! whatever is the matter?  You look thoroughly done
+up.  Now lie down on the bed like a good girl, and I will assume my
+best bedside manner."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia shook her head wearily, and indicating a chair by the window,
+seated herself upon the bed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm afraid I am rather tired," she said.  "I was just going to lock
+myself up for the night."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now I'm going to cheer you up," cried Lady Tanagra.  "Was there ever a
+more tactless way of beginning, but I've got something to tell you that
+is so exquisitely funny that it would cheer up an oyster, or even a
+radical."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"First," said Patricia, "I think I should like you to read these
+letters."  Slowly and wearily she ripped open the three letters and
+handed them to Lady Tanagra, who read them through slowly and
+deliberately.  This done, she folded each carefully, returned it to its
+envelope and handed them to Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well!" said Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Tanagra smiled.  Reaching across to the dressing-table she took a
+cigarette from Patricia's box and proceeded to light it.  Patricia
+watched her curiously.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think you must have been meant for a man, Tanagra," she said after a
+pause.  "You have the gift of silence, and nothing is more provoking to
+a woman."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What do you want me to say?" enquired Lady Tanagra.  "I like these
+cigarettes," she added.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If you are not careful, you'll make me scream in a minute," said
+Patricia, with a smile.  "I showed you those letters and now you don't
+even so much as say 'thank you.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Thank you very much indeed, Patricia," said Lady Tanagra meekly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You don't approve of them?"  There was undisguised challenge in
+Patricia's voice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think the one to Miss Brent is admirable, specially if you will add
+a postscript after what I tell you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But the other two," persisted Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do not think I am qualified to express an opinion, am I?" said Lady
+Tanagra calmly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why not?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, you see, I am an interested party."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You!" cried Patricia, then with a sudden change, "Oh, if you are not
+careful I shall come over and shake you!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think that would be very good for both of us," was Lady Tanagra's
+reply.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Tell me what you mean," persisted Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, in the first place, the one to the editor of <I>The Morning Post</I>
+will make poor Peter ridiculous, and the other will hurt his feelings,
+and as I am very fond of Peter you cannot expect me to be enthusiastic
+with either of them, can you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Tanagra rose and going over to Patricia put her arm round her and
+kissed her on the cheek, then Patricia did a very foolish thing.
+Without a word of warning she threw her arms around Lady Tanagra's neck
+and burst into tears.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, I'm so wretched, Tanagra!  I know I'm a beast and I want to hurt
+everybody and every thing.  I think I should like to hurt you even,"
+she cried, her mood of crying passing as quickly as it had come.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't you think we had better just talk the thing out?  Now since you
+have asked my view," continued Lady Tanagra, "I will give it.  Your
+letter to <I>The Morning Post</I> people will make poor Peter the
+laughing-stock of London.  He has many enemies among ambitious mamas.
+Never have I known him to be attracted towards a girl until you came
+along.  He's really paying you a very great compliment."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia sniffed ominously.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then the letter to Peter would hurt him because&mdash;you must forgive
+me&mdash;it is rather brutal, isn't it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia nodded her head vigorously.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well," continued Lady Tanagra, "what do you say if we destroy them
+both?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But&mdash;but&mdash;that would leave <I>The Morning Post</I> announcement and
+P-Peter&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't you think they might both be left, just for the moment?  Later
+you can wipe the floor with them."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But&mdash;but&mdash;you don't understand, Tanagra," began Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't you think that half the troubles of the world are due to people
+wanting to understand?" said Lady Tanagra calmly.  "I never want to
+understand.  There are certain things I know and these are sufficient
+for me.  In this case I know that I have a very good brother and he
+wants to marry a very good girl; but for some reason she won't have
+anything to do either with him or with me."  She looked up into
+Patricia's face with a smile so wholly disarming that Patricia was
+forced to laugh.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If you knew Patricia's opinion of herself," she said to Lady Tanagra,
+"you would be almost shocked."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, now, will you do something just to please me?" insinuated Lady
+Tanagra.  "You see this big brother of mine has always been more or
+less my adopted child, and you have it in your power to hurt him more
+than I want to see him hurt."  There was an unusually serious note in
+Lady Tanagra's voice.  "Why not let things go on as they are for the
+present, then later the engagement can be broken off if you wish it.
+I'll speak to Peter and see that he is not tiresome."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, but he's never been that!" protested Patricia, then she stopped
+suddenly in confusion.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Tanagra smiled to herself.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, if he's never been tiresome I'm sure you wouldn't like to hurt
+him, would you?"  She was speaking as if to a child.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The only person I want to hurt is Aunt Adelaide," said Patricia with a
+laugh.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Tanagra noticed with pleasure that the mood seemed to be dropping
+from her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, may I be the physician for to-day?" continued Lady Tanagra.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia nodded her head.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Very well, then, I prescribe a dinner this evening with one Tanagra
+Bowen, Peter Bowen and Godfrey Elton, on the principle of 'Eat thou and
+drink, to-morrow thou shalt die.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who is Godfrey Elton?" asked Patricia with interest.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dear Patricia, if I were to start endeavouring to describe Godfrey
+we should be at it for hours.  You can't describe Godfrey, you can only
+absorb him.  He is a sort of wise youth rapidly approaching childhood."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What on earth do you mean?" cried Patricia, laughing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You will discover for yourself later.  We are all dining at the
+Quadrant to-night at eight."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dining at the Quadrant?" repeated Patricia in amazement.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, and I have to get home to dress and you have to dress and I will
+pick you up in a taxi at a quarter to eight."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But&mdash;but&mdash;Peter&mdash;your brother said that he was coming&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Peter has greater faith in his sister than in himself, he therefore
+took me into his confidence and I am his emissary."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, you Bowens, you Bowens!" moaned Patricia in mock despair.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There is no avoiding us, I confess," said Lady Tanagra gaily.  "Now I
+must tell you about your charming aunt.  She called upon mother
+yesterday."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What!" gasped Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She called at Grosvenor Square and announced to poor, un-understanding
+mother that she thought the families ought to know one another.  But
+she got rather badly shocked by Godfrey and one of the soldier boys,
+whom we call 'Uncle,' and left with the firm conviction that our circle
+is a pernicious one."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's&mdash;it's&mdash;perfectly scandalous!" cried Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, it's not as bad as that," said Lady Tanagra calmly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What?" began Patricia.  "Oh!  I mean Aunt Adelaide's conduct, it's
+humiliating, it's&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Wait until you hear," said Lady Tanagra with a smile.  "When Peter ran
+in to see mother, she said that she had had a call from a Miss Brent
+and could he place her.  So poor old Peter blurts out that he's going
+to marry Miss Brent.  Poor mother nearly had a fit on the spot.  She
+was too tactful to express her disapproval; but she showed it in her
+amazement.  The result was that Peter was deeply hurt and left the room
+and the house.  I am the only one who saw the exquisite humour of the
+joke.  My poor darling mother had the impression that Peter has gone
+clean off his head and wanted to marry your most excellent Aunt
+Adelaide," and Lady Tanagra laughed gaily.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+For a moment Patricia gazed at her blankly, then as she visualised Aunt
+Adelaide and Bowen side by side at the altar she laughed hysterically.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I kept mother in suspense for quite a long time.  Then I told her, and
+I also rang up Peter and told him.  And now I must fly," cried Lady
+Tanagra.  "I will be here at a quarter to eight, and if you are not
+ready I shall be angry; but if you have locked yourself in your room I
+shall batter down the door.  We are going to have a very happy evening
+and you will enjoy yourself immensely.  I think it quite likely that
+Godfrey will fall in love with you as well as Peter, which will still
+further increase your embarrassments." Then with a sudden change of
+mood she said, "Please cheer up, Patricia, happiness is not a thing to
+be taken lightly.  You have been a little overwrought of late, and now,
+good-bye."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"One moment, please," said Patricia.  "Don't you understand that
+nothing can possibly be built up on such a foundation as&mdash;as&mdash;&mdash;?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Your picking up Peter in the Grill-room of the Quadrant," said Lady
+Tanagra calmly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia gasped.  "Oh!" she cried.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Let's call things by their right names," said Lady Tanagra.  "At the
+present moment you're putting up rather a big fight against your own
+inclination, and you are causing yourself a lot of unnecessary
+unhappiness.  Is it worth it?" she asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"One's self-respect is always worth any sacrifice," said Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Except when you are in love, and then you take pride in trampling it
+under foot."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+With this oracular utterance Lady Tanagra departed with a bright nod, a
+smile and an insistence that Patricia should not come downstairs.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap13"></A>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XIII
+</H3>
+
+<H4 ALIGN="center">
+A TACTICAL BLUNDER
+</H4>
+
+<P>
+"I often think," remarked Lady Tanagra as she helped herself a second
+time to hors d'oeuvres, "that if Godfrey could only be condensed or
+desiccated he would save the world from ennui."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Elton looked up from a sardine he was filleting with great interest and
+care; concentration was the foundation of Godfrey Elton's character.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Does that mean that he is a food or a stimulant?" enquired Patricia,
+Elton having returned to his sardine.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Tanagra regarded Elton with thoughtful brow.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think," she said deliberately, "I should call him a habit."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Does that imply that he is a drug upon the market?" retorted Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bowen laughed.  Elton continued to fillet his sardine.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You see," continued Lady Tanagra, "Godfrey has two qualities that to a
+woman are maddening.  The first is the gift of silence, and the second
+is a perfect genius for making everyone else feel that they are in the
+wrong.  Some day he'll fall in love, and then something will snap
+and&mdash;well, he will give up dissecting sardines as if they were the one
+thing in life worthy of a man's attention."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Elton looked up again straight into Lady Tanagra's eyes and smiled.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Look at him now!" continued Lady Tanagra, "that very smile makes me
+feel like a naughty child."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The four were dining in Bowen's sitting-room at the Quadrant, Lady
+Tanagra having decided that this would be more pleasant than in the
+public dining-room.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Can you," continued Lady Tanagra, who was in a wilful mood, "can you
+imagine Godfrey in love?  I don't think any man ought to be allowed to
+fall in love until he has undergone an examination as to whether or no
+he can say the right thing the right way.  No, it takes an Irishman to
+make love."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But an Irishman says what he cannot possibly mean," said Patricia,
+with the air of one of vast experience in such matters.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And many Englishmen mean what they cannot possibly say," said Elton,
+looking at Lady Tanagra.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh," cried Lady Tanagra, clapping her hands.  "You have drawn him,
+Patricia.  Now he will talk to us instead of concentrating himself upon
+his food.  Ah!" she exclaimed suddenly, turning to Elton.  "I promised
+that you should fall in love with Patricia, Godfrey."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now that Tanagra has come down to probabilities the atmosphere should
+lighten," Elton remarked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Isn't that Godfrey all over?" demanded Lady Tanagra of Bowen.  "He
+will snub one woman and compliment another in a breath.  Patricia," she
+continued, "I warn you against Godfrey.  He is highly dangerous.  He
+should always be preceded by a man with a red flag."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But why?" asked Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Because of his reticence.  A man has no right t to be reticent; it
+piques a woman's curiosity, and with us curiosity is the first step to
+surrender."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why hesitate at the first step?" asked Elton.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Think of it, Patricia," continued Lady Tanagra, ignoring Elton's
+remark.  "Although Godfrey has seen <I>The Morning Post</I> he has not yet
+congratulated Peter."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I did not know then that I had cause to congratulate him," said Elton
+quietly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What mental balance!" cried Lady Tanagra.  "I'm sure he reads the
+deaths immediately after the births, and the divorces just after the
+marriages so as to preserve his sense of proportion."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Elton looked first at Lady Tanagra and then on to Patricia, and smiled.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Can you not see Godfrey choosing a wife?" demanded Lady Tanagra,
+laughing.  "Weighing the shape of her head with the size of her ankles,
+he's very fussy about ankles.  He would dissect her as he would a
+sardine, demanding perfection, mental, moral, and physical, and in
+return he could give <I>himself</I>."  Lady Tanagra emphasized the last word.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Most men take less time to choose a wife than they would a
+trousering," said Elton quietly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think Mr. Elton is right," said Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then you don't believe in love at first sight," said Bowen to Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Miss Brent did not say that," interposed Elton.  "She merely implied
+that a man who falls in love at first sight should choose trouserings
+at first sight.  Is that not so?"  He looked across at Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia nodded.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"An impetuous man will be impetuous in all things," said Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He who hesitates may lose a wife," said Lady Tanagra, "and&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And by analogy, go without trousers," said Elton quietly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That might explain a Greek; but scarcely a Scotsman," said Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No one has ever been able to explain a Scotsman," said Elton.  "We
+content ourselves with misunderstanding him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We were talking about love," broke in Lady Tanagra, "and I will not
+have the conversation diverted."  Turning to Patricia she demanded,
+"Can you imagine Godfrey in love?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think so," said Patricia quietly, looking across at Elton.
+"Only&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Only what?" cried Lady Tanagra with excited interest.  "Oh, please,
+Patricia, explain Godfrey to me!  No one has ever done so."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't you think he is a little like the Scotsman we were talking about
+just now?" said Patricia.  "Difficult to explain; but easy to
+misunderstand."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, Peter, Peter!" wailed Lady Tanagra, looking across at Bowen.
+"She's caught it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Caught what?" asked Bowen in surprise.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The vagueness of generalities that is Godfrey," replied Lady Tanagra.
+"Now, Patricia, you must explain that 'only' at which you broke off.
+You say you can imagine Godfrey in love, only&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think he would place it on the same plane as honour and
+sportsmanship, probably a little above both."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Elton looked up from the bread he was crumbling, and gave Patricia a
+quick penetrating glance, beneath which her eyes fell.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Tanagra looked at Patricia in surprise, but said nothing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Can you imagine Tan in love, Patricia?" enquired Bowen.  "We Bowens
+are notoriously backward in matters of the heart," he added.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I shall fall in love when the man comes along who&mdash;who&mdash;&mdash;"  Lady
+Tanagra paused.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Will compel you," said Patricia, concluding the sentence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Again Elton looked quickly across at her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What do you mean?" demanded Lady Tanagra.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think," said Patricia deliberately, "that you are too primitive to
+fall in love.  You would have to be stormed, carried away by force, and
+wooed afterwards."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It doesn't sound very respectable, does it?" said Lady Tanagra
+thoughtfully, then turning to Bowen she demanded, "Peter, would you
+allow me to be carried away by force, stormed, and wooed afterwards?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think, Tanagra, you sometimes forget that your atmosphere is too
+exotic for most men," said Elton.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Godfrey," said Lady Tanagra reproachfully, "I have had quite a lot of
+proposals, and I won't be denied my successes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We were talking about love, not offers of marriage," said Elton with a
+smile.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Cynic," cried Lady Tanagra.  "You imply that the men who have proposed
+to me wanted my money and not myself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Suppose, Tanagra, there were a right man," said Patricia, "and he was
+poor and honourable.  What then?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose I should have to ask him to marry me," said Lady Tanagra
+dubiously.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But, Tan, we've just decided," said Bowen, "that you have to be
+carried away by force, and cannot love until force has been applied."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think I've had enough of this conversation," said Lady Tanagra.
+"You're trying to prove that I'm either going to lose my reputation, or
+die an old maid, and I'm not so sure that you're wrong, about the old
+maid, I mean," she added.  "I shall depend upon you, Godfrey, then,"
+she said, turning to Elton, "and we will hobble about the Park together
+on Sunday mornings, comparing notes upon rheumatism and gout.  Ugh!"
+She looked deliberately round the table, from one to the other.  "Has
+it ever struck you what we shall look like when we grow very old?" she
+asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No one need ever grow old," said Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How can you prevent it?" asked Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There is morphia and the fountain of eternal youth," suggested Elton.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Please don't let's be clever any more," said Lady Tanagra.  "It's
+affecting my brain.  Now we will play bridge for a little while and
+then all go home and get to bed early."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In spite of her protests Bowen insisted on seeing Patricia to Galvin
+House.  For some time they did not speak.  As the taxi turned into
+Oxford Street Bowen broke the silence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Patricia, my mother wants to know you," he said simply.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia shivered.  The words came as a shock.  They recalled the
+incident of her meeting with Bowen.  She seemed to see a grey-haired
+lady with Bowen's eyes and quiet manner, too well-bred to show the
+disapproval she felt on hearing the story of her son's first meeting
+with his fiancé.  She shuddered again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are you cold?" Bowen enquired solicitously, leaning forward to close
+the window nearest to him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, I was thinking what Lady Meyfield will think when she hears how
+you made the acquaintance of&mdash;of&mdash;me," she finished lamely.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There is no reason why she should know," said Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you think I would marry&mdash;&mdash;?"  Patricia broke off suddenly in
+confusion.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But why&mdash;&mdash;?" began Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If ever I meet Lady Meyfield I shall tell her exactly how I&mdash;I&mdash;met
+you," said Patricia with
+ecision.<BR>
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, tell her then," said Bowen good-humouredly.  "She has a real
+sense of humour."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The moment Bowen had uttered the words he saw his mistake.  Patricia
+drew herself up coldly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It was rather funny, wasn't it?" she said evenly; "but mothers do not
+encourage their sons to develop such acquaintances.  Now shall we talk
+about something else?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But my mother wants to meet you," protested Bowen.  "She&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Tell her the story of our acquaintance," replied Patricia coldly.  "I
+think that will effectually overcome her wish to know me.  Ah! here we
+are," she concluded as the taxi drew up at Galvin House.  With a short
+"good night!" Patricia walked up the steps, leaving Bowen conscious
+that he had once more said the wrong thing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+That night, as Patricia prepared for bed, she mentally contrasted the
+Bowens' social sphere with that of Galvin House and she shuddered for
+the third time that evening.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Patricia Brent," she apostrophised her reflection in the mirror.
+"You're a fool! and you have not even the saving grace of being an old
+fool.  High Society has turned your giddy young head," and with a laugh
+that sounded hard even to her own ears, she got into bed and switched
+off the light.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap14"></A>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XIV
+</H3>
+
+<H4 ALIGN="center">
+GALVIN HOUSE MEETS A LORD
+</H4>
+
+<P>
+The effect of <I>The Morning Post</I> announcement upon Galvin House had
+been little short of sensational.  Although all were aware of the
+engagement, to see the announcement in print seemed to arouse them to a
+point of enthusiasm.  Everyone from the servants upwards possessed a
+copy of <I>The Morning Post</I>, with the single exception of Mrs. Barnes,
+who had mislaid hers and made everybody's life a misery by insisting on
+examining their copy to make quite sure that they had not taken hers by
+mistake.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Had not Patricia been so preoccupied, she could not have failed to
+notice the atmosphere of suppressed excitement at Galvin House.  Many
+glances were directed at her, glances of superior knowledge, of which
+she was entirely unconscious.  Woman-like she never paused to ask
+herself what she really felt or what she really meant.  Her thoughts
+ran in a circle, coming back inevitably to the maddening question,
+"What does he really think of me?"  Why had Fate been so unkind as to
+undermine a possible friendship with that damning introduction?  After
+all, she would ask herself indifferently, what did it matter?  Bowen
+was nothing to her.  Then back again her thoughts would rush to the
+inevitable question, what did he really think?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Since the night of her adventure, Patricia had formed the habit of
+dressing for dinner.  She made neither excuse nor explanation to
+herself as to why she did so.  Miss Wangle and Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe,
+however, had covertly remarked upon the fact; but Patricia had ignored
+them.  She had reached that state in her psychological development when
+she neither explained nor denied things.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+With delicacy and insight Providence has withheld from woman the
+uncomfortable quality of introspection.  Had Patricia subjected her
+actions to the rigid test of reason, she would have found them
+strangely at variance with her determination.  With a perversity
+characteristic of her sex, she forbade Bowen to see her, and then spent
+hours in speculating as to when and how he would disobey her.  A parcel
+in the hall at Galvin House sent the colour flooding to her cheeks,
+whilst Gustave, entering the lounge, bearing his flamboyant
+nickle-plated apology for the conventional silver salver, set her heart
+thumping with expectation.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As the day on which Bowen was to dine at Galvin House drew near, the
+excitement became intense, developing into a panic when the day itself
+dawned.  All were wondering how this or that garment would turn out
+when actually worn, and those who were not in difficulties with their
+clothes were troubled about their manners.  At Galvin House manners
+were things that were worn, like a gardenia or a patent hook-and-eye.
+Patricia had once explained to an uncomprehending Aunt Adelaide that
+Galvin House had more manners than breeding.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+On the Friday evening when Patricia returned to Galvin House, Gustave
+was in the hall.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, mees!" he involuntarily exclaimed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia waited for more; but after a moment of hesitation, Gustave
+disappeared along the hall as if there were nothing strange in his
+conduct, leaving Patricia staring after him in surprise.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At that moment Mrs. Craske-Morton bustled out of the lounge, full of an
+unwonted importance.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, Miss Brent!" she exclaimed.  "I am so glad you've come.  I have a
+few friends coming to dinner this evening and we are dressing."
+Without waiting for a reply Mrs. Craske-Morton turned and disappeared
+along the passage leading to the servants' regions.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At that moment Mr. Bolton appeared at the top of the stairs in his
+shirt sleeves; but at the sight of Patricia he turned and bolted
+precipitately out of sight.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia walked slowly upstairs and along the corridor to her room,
+unconscious that each door she passed was closed upon a tragedy.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In one room Mrs. Barnes sat on her bed in an agony of indecision and a
+camisole, wondering how the seams of her only evening frock could be
+made black with the blue-black ink that had been given her at the
+stationer's shop in error.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. James Harris, a little bearded man with long legs and a short body,
+stood in front of his glass, frankly baffled by the problem of how to
+keep the top of his trousers from showing above the opening of his
+low-cut evening waistcoat, an abandoned garment that seemed determined
+to show all that it was supposed to hide.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Sikkum was engaged in a losing game with delicacy.  On her lap lay
+the Brixton "Paris model blouse," which she had adorned with narrow
+black velvet ribbon.  Should she or should she not enlarge the surface
+of exposure?  If she did Miss Wangle might think her fast; if she did
+not Lord Peter might think her suburban.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Sefton was at work upon his back hair, striving to remove from his
+reflection in the glass a likeness to a sandy cockatoo.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Cordal was vainly struggling with a voluminous starched shirt,
+which as he bent seemed determined to give him the appearance of a
+pouter pigeon.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+To each his tragedy and to all their anguish.  Even Miss Wangle had her
+problem.  Should she or should she not remove the lace from the modest
+V in her black silk evening gown.  The thought of the bishop, however,
+proved too much for her, and her collar-bones continued to remain a
+mystery to Galvin House.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The dinner-gong found everyone anxious and unprepared.  All had a
+vision of Bowen sitting in judgment upon them and mentally comparing
+Galvin House with Park Lane; for in Bayswater Park Lane is the pinnacle
+of culture and social splendour.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A few minutes after the last strain of the gong, sounded by Gustave in
+a manner worthy of the occasion, had subsided, Miss Sikkum crept out
+from her room feeling very "undressed."  The sight of Mr. Sefton nearly
+drove her back precipitately to the maiden fastness of her chamber.
+"Was she really too undressed?" she asked herself.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Slowly the guests descended, each anxious to cede to others the pride
+of place, all absorbed with his or her particular tragedy.  By the aid
+of pins Mr. Cordal had overcome his likeness to a pigeon, but he had
+not allowed for movement, which tore the pins from their hold, allowing
+his shirt-front to balloon out joyfully before him, for the rest of the
+evening obscuring his boots.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Wangle looked at Miss Sikkum and mentally thanked Heaven and the
+bishop that she had restrained her abandoned impulse to remove the
+black lace from her own neck.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Bolton's attention was concentrated upon the centre stud of his
+shirt.  The button-hole was too large, and the head of the stud
+insisted on disappearing in a most coquettish and embarrassing manner.
+Mr. Bolton was not sure that Bowen would approve of blue underwear, and
+consequently kept a finger and thumb upon his stud for the greater part
+of the evening.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As each entered the lounge, it was with a hurried glance round to see
+if the guest of the evening had arrived, followed by a sigh of relief
+on discovering that he had not.  Mrs. Craske-Morton had taken the
+precaution of deferring the dinner until eight o'clock.  She wished
+Bowen's entry to be dramatic.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Craske-Morton had asked a few friends of her own to meet her
+distinguished guest; a Miss Plimsoll, who was composed in claret colour
+and royal blue trimming, and Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Ragbone.  Mrs. Ragbone
+was a stout, jolly woman with a pronounced cockney accent.  Mr. Ragbone
+was a man whose eyebrows seemed to rise higher with each year, and
+whose manner of patient suffering became more pathetically unreal with
+the passage of each season.  Mrs. Craske-Morton always explained him as
+a solicitor.  Morton, Gofrim and Bowett, of Lincoln's Inn, knew him as
+their chief clerk.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The atmosphere of the lounge was one of nervous tension.  All were
+listening for the bell which would announce the arrival of Bowen.  When
+at last he came, everybody was taken by surprise, Mr. Bolton's stud
+eluded his grasp, Mr. Sefton felt his back hair, whilst Miss Sikkum
+blushed rosily at her own daring.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A dead silence spread over the company, broken by Gustave, who,
+throwing open the door with a flourish, announced "Lieutenant-Colonel
+Lord Peter Bowen, D.S.O."  Bowen gave him a quick glance with widened
+eyes, then coming forward, shook hands with Mrs. Craske-Morton.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Sikkum was disappointed to find that he was in khaki.  She had a
+vague idea that the nobility adopted different evening clothes from the
+ordinary rank and file.  It would have pleased her to see Bowen with
+velvet stripes down his trousers, a velvet collar and velvet cuffs.  A
+coloured silk waistcoat would have convinced her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Craske-Morton was determined to do her work thoroughly.  She had
+taken the precaution of telling Patricia that dinner would not be
+served until a few minutes after eight, that would give her time to
+introduce Bowen to all the guests.  She proceeded to conduct him round
+to everyone in turn.  In her flurry she quite forgot the careful
+schooling to which she had subjected herself for a week past, and she
+introduced Miss Wangle to Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Lord Peter, allow me to introduce Miss Wangle.  Miss Wangle, Lord
+Peter Bowen," and this was the form adopted with the rest of the
+company.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bowen's sixth bow had just been interrupted by Mr. Cordal grasping him
+warmly by the hand, when Patricia entered.  For a moment she looked
+about her regarding the strange toilettes, then she saw Bowen.  She
+felt herself crimsoning as he slipped away from Mr. Cordal's grasp and
+came across to her.  All the guests hung back as if this were the
+meeting between Wellington and Blücher.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I've done six, there are about twenty more to do.  If you save me,
+Patricia, I'll forgive you anything after we're married."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia shook hands sedately.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Craske-Morton bustled up to re-claim Bowen.  "A little surprise,
+Miss Brent; I hope you will forgive me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia smiled at her in anything but a forgiving spirit.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And now, Lord Peter, I want to introduce you to&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Deenair is served, madame."  Gustave was certainly doing the thing in
+style.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At a sign from Mrs. Craske-Morton, Miss Wangle secured Mr. Samuel
+Ragbone and they started for the dining-room.  The remainder of the
+guests paired off in accordance with Mrs. Craske-Morton's instructions,
+written and verbal, she left nothing to chance, and the procession was
+brought up by Mrs. Craske-Morton herself and Bowen.  Patricia fell to
+the lot of Mr. Sefton.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As soon as the guests were seated a death-like stillness reigned.
+Bowen was looking round with interest as he unfolded his napkin into
+which had been deftly inserted a roll.  Miss Sikkum, Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe and Mr. Bolton each lost their rolls, which were
+retrieved from underneath the table by Gustave and Alice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Sefton, also unconscious of the secreted roll, opened his napkin
+with a debonair jerk to show that he was quite at his ease.  The bread
+rose in the air.  He made an unsuccessful clutch, touched but could not
+hold it, and watched with horror the errant roll hit Miss Wangle
+playfully on the side of the nose, just as she was beginning to tell
+Bowen about "the dear bishop."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia bit her lip, Bowen bent solicitously over the angry Miss
+Wangle, whilst Mr. Bolton threatened to report Mr. Sefton to the Food
+Controller.  Gustave created a diversion by arriving with the soup.
+His white cotton gloves, several sizes too large even for his hands,
+caused him great anxiety.  Every spare moment during the evening he
+spent in clutching them at the wrists, just as they were on the point
+of slipping off.  Nothing, however, could daunt his courage or mitigate
+his good-humour.  For the first time in his life he was waiting upon a
+real lord, and from the circumstance he was extracting every ounce of
+satisfaction it possessed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In serving Bowen his attitude was that of one self-convicted of
+unworthiness.  Accustomed to the complaints and bickerings of a
+Bayswater boarding-house, Bowen's matter-of-fact motions of acceptance
+or refusal impressed him profoundly.  So this was how lords behaved.
+Nothing so impressed him as the little incident of the champagne.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At Galvin House it was the custom for the guests to have their own
+drinks.  Mr. Cordal, for instance, drank what the label on the bottle
+announced to be "Gumton's Superior Light Dinner Ale."  Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe favoured Guinness's Stout, Miss Sikkum took hot water,
+whilst Miss Wangle satisfied herself with a claret bottle.  There is
+refinement in claret, the dear bishop always drank it, with water: but
+as claret costs money Miss Wangle made a bottle last for months.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The thought of the usual heterogeneous collection of bottles on the
+occasion of Lord Peter's visit had filled Mrs. Craske-Morton with
+horror, and she had decided to "spring" wine, as Mr. Bolton put it.  In
+other words, she supplied for the whole company four bottles of
+one-and-eightpenny claret, the bottles rendered beautifully old by
+applied dust and cobwebs.  To this she had added a bottle of grocer's
+champagne for Bowen.  Gustave had been elaborately instructed that this
+was for the principal guest and the principal guest only, and Mrs.
+Craske-Morton had managed to convey to him in some subtle way that if
+he poured so much as a drop of the precious fluid into any other
+person's glass, the consequences would be too terrifying even to
+contemplate.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Whilst Galvin House was murmuring softly over its soup, Gustave
+approached Bowen with the champagne bottle swathed in a white napkin,
+and looking suspiciously like an infant in long clothes.  Holding the
+end of the bottle's robes with the left hand so that it should not
+tickle Bowen's ear, Gustave bent anxiously to his task.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bowen, however, threw a bomb-shell at the earnest servitor.  He
+motioned that he did not desire champagne.  Gustave hesitated and
+looked enquiringly at his mistress.  Here was an unlooked-for
+development.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You'll take champagne?" enquired Mrs. Craske-Morton ingratiatingly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Gustave breathed again, and whilst Bowen's attention was distracted in
+explaining to Mrs. Craske-Morton that he preferred water, he had a
+delicate taste in wine, Gustave filled the glass happily.  Of course,
+it was all right, he told himself, the lord merely wanted to be
+pressed.  If he had really meant "no," he would have put his hand over
+his glass, as Miss Sikkum always did when she refused some of Mr.
+Cordal's "Light Dinner Ale."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Gustave retired victorious with the champagne bottle, which he placed
+upon the sideboard.  At every interval in his manifold duties, Gustave
+returned with the white-clothed bottle, and strove to squeeze a few
+more drops into Bowen's untouched glass.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The terrifying constraint with which the meal had opened gradually wore
+off as the wine circulated.  Following the path of least resistance, it
+mounted to Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe's head; but with Miss Sikkum it seemed
+to stop short at her nose.  Mr. Cordal's shirt-front announced that he
+had temporarily given up Gumton in favour of the red, red wine of the
+smoking-concert baritone.  Mrs. Barnes seemed on the point of tears,
+whilst Mr. Sefton's attentions to Patricia were a direct challenge to
+Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Conversation at Galvin House was usually general; but it now became
+particular.  Every remark was directed either to or at Bowen, and each
+guest strove to hear what he said.  Those who were fortunate enough to
+catch his replies told those who were not.  A smile or a laugh from
+anyone who might be in conversation with Bowen rippled down the table.
+Mr. Cordal was less intent upon his food, and his inaccuracy of aim
+became more than ever noticeable.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, Lord Bowen!" simpered Miss Sikkum, "do tell us where you got the
+D.S.O."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bowen screwed his glass into his eye and looked across at Miss Sikkum,
+at the redness of her nose and the artificial rose in her hair.
+Everyone was waiting anxiously for Bowen's reply.  Mr. Cordal grunted
+approval.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"At Buckingham Palace," said Bowen, "from the King.  They give you
+special leave, you know."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia looked across at him and smiled.  What was he thinking of
+Galvin House refinement?  What did he think of her for being there?
+Well, he had brought it on himself and he deserved his punishment.  At
+first Patricia had been amused: but as the meal dragged wearily on,
+amusement developed into torture.  Would it never end?  She glanced
+from Miss Wangle, all graciousness and smiles, to Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe,
+in her faded blue evening-frock, on to Miss Sikkum bare and abandoned.
+She heard Mr. Sefton's chatter, Mr. Bolton's laugh, Mr. Cordal's jaws
+and lips.  She shuddered.  Why did not she accept the opening of escape
+that now presented itself and marry Bowen?  He could rescue her from
+all this and what it meant.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And shall we all be asked to the wedding, Lord Bowen?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was again Miss Sikkum's thin voice that broke through the curtain of
+Patricia's thoughts.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I hope all Miss Brent's friends will be there," replied Bowen
+diplomatically.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And now we shall all have to fetch and carry for Miss Brent," laughed
+Mr. Bolton.  "Am I your friend, Miss Brent?" he enquired.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She always laughs at your jokes when nobody else can," snapped Miss
+Pilkington.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Everybody turned to the speaker, who during the whole meal had silently
+nursed her resentment at having been placed at the bottom of the table.
+Mr. Bolton looked crestfallen.  Bowen looked across at Patricia and saw
+her smile sympathetically at Mr. Bolton.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think from what I have heard, Mr. Bolton," he said, "that you may
+regard yourself as one of the elect."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia flashed Bowen a grateful look.  Mr. Bolton beamed and, turning
+to Miss Pilkington, said with his usual introductory laugh:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then I shall return good for evil, Miss Pilkington, and persuade Lady
+Peter to buy her stamps at your place."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Pilkington flushed at this reference to her calling, a
+particularly threadbare joke of Mr. Bolton's.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"When is it to be, Lord Peter?" enquired Mrs. Craske-Morton.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Sikkum looked down modestly at her plate, not quite certain
+whether or no this were a delicate question.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That rests with Miss Brent," replied Bowen, smiling.  "If you, her
+friends, can persuade her to make it soon, I shall be very grateful."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Sikkum simpered and murmured under her breath, "How romantic."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now, Miss Brent," said Mr. Bolton, "it's up to you to name the happy
+day."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia smiled, conscious that all eyes were upon her; but
+particularly conscious of Bowen's gaze.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I believe in long engagements," she said, stealing a glance at Bowen
+and thrilling at the look of disappointment on his face.  "Didn't Jacob
+serve seven years for Rachel?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, and got the wrong girl then," broke in Mr. Bolton.  "You'll have
+to be careful, Miss Brent, or Miss Sikkum will get ahead of you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Really, Mr. Bolton!" said Mrs. Craske-Morton, looking anxiously at
+Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Sikkum's cheeks had assumed the same tint as her nose, and her
+eyes were riveted upon her plate.  Miss Pilkington muttered something
+under her breath about Mr. Bolton's remark being outrageous.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think we'll take coffee in the lounge," said Mrs. Craske-Morton,
+rising.  Turning to Bowen, she added, "We follow the American custom,
+Lord Peter, the gentlemen always leave the dining-room with the ladies."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was a pushing back of chairs and a shuffling of feet and Galvin
+House rose from its repast.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Coffee will not be served for half an hour, and if you and Miss Brent
+would like to&mdash;to&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Craske-Morton paused significantly.  "My boudoir is at your
+service."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bowen looked at her and then at Patricia.  He saw the flush on her
+cheeks and the humiliation in her eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think we should much prefer not to interrupt our pleasant
+conversation.  What do you say, Patricia?" he enquired, turning to
+Patricia, who smiled her acquiescence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They all trooped into the lounge, where everybody except Patricia,
+Bowen and Mrs. Craske-Morton stood about in awkward poses.  The arrival
+of Gustave with coffee relieved the tension.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+For the next hour each guest endeavoured to attract to himself or
+herself Bowen's attention, and each was disappointed when at length he
+rose to go and shook hands only with Mrs. Craske-Morton, including the
+others in a comprehensive bow.  Still more were they disappointed and
+surprised when Patricia did not go out into the hall to see him off.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, Miss Brent!" simpered Miss Sikkum, "aren't you going to say good
+night to him?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Good night!" interrogated Patricia, "but I did."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes; but I mean&mdash;&mdash;" began Miss Sikkum.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, you know," she said with a simper, but Patricia had passed over to
+a chair, where she seated herself and began to read a newspaper upside
+down.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Sikkum's romantic soul had received a shock.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap15"></A>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XV
+</H3>
+
+<H4 ALIGN="center">
+MR. TRIGGS TAKES TEA IN KENSINGTON GARDENS
+</H4>
+
+<BR>
+
+<H4 ALIGN="center">
+I
+</H4>
+
+<P>
+"Well, me dear, 'ow goes it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Triggs flooded the room with his genial person, mopping his brow
+with a large bandana handkerchief, and blowing a cheerful protest
+against the excessive heat.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia looked up from her work and greeted him with a tired smile, as
+he collapsed heavily upon a chair, which creaked ominously beneath his
+weight.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"When you're sixty-two in the shade it ain't like being twenty-five in
+the sun," he said, laughing happily at his joke.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now you must sit quiet and be good," admonished Patricia.  "I'm busy
+with beetles."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Busy with what?" demanded Mr. Triggs arresting the process of fanning
+himself with his handkerchief.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The potato-beetle," explained Patricia.  "There is no lack of variety
+in the life of an M.P.'s secretary: babies and beetles, pigs and
+potatoes, meat and margarine, they all have their allotted place."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Arthur works you too 'ard, me dear, I'm afraid," said Mr. Triggs.  "I
+must speak to 'im about it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, Mr. Triggs!  You mustn't do anything of the sort.  He's most kind
+and considerate, and if I am here I must do what he wants."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But beetles and babies and potatoes, me dear," said Mr. Triggs.
+"That's more than a joke."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh! you don't know what a joke a beetle can be," said Patricia,
+looking up and laughing in spite of herself at the expression of
+anxiety on Mr. Triggs's face.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Triggs mumbled something to himself.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"God bless my soul!" he exclaimed a moment after.  "'Ere am I,
+forgetting what I come about.  I've seen <I>The Morning Post</I>, me dear."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia pushed back her chair from the table and turned and faced Mr.
+Triggs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mr. Triggs," she said, "if you mention the words <I>Morning Post</I> to me
+again I think I shall kill you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Triggs's hands dropped to his side as he gazed at her in blank
+astonishment.  "But, me dear&mdash;&mdash;" he began.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The engagement has been broken off," announced Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Triggs's jaw dropped, and he gazed at Patricia in amazement.
+"Broken off," he repeated.  "Engagement broken off.  Why, damn 'im,
+I'll punch 'is 'ead," and he made an effort to rise.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia laughed, a little hysterically.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You mustn't blame Lord Peter," she said.  "It is I who have broken it
+off."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Triggs collapsed into the chair again.  "You broke it off," he
+exclaimed.  "You broke off the engagement with a nice young chap like
+'im?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia nodded.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I'm blowed!"  Mr. Triggs sat staring at Patricia as if she had
+suddenly become transformed into a dodo.  After nearly a minute's
+contemplation of Patricia, a smile slowly spread itself over his
+features, like the sun breaking through a heavy cloud-laden sky.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You been 'avin' a quarrel, that's what's the matter," he announced
+with a profound air of wisdom.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia shook her head with an air of finality; but Mr. Triggs
+continued to nod his head wisely.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's what's the matter," he muttered.  "Why," he added, "you'll
+never get another young chap like 'im.  Took a great fancy to 'im, I
+did.  Now all you've got to do is just to kiss and make it up.  Then
+you'll feel 'appier than ever afterwards."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia realised the impossibility of conveying to Mr. Triggs that her
+decision was irrevocable.  Furthermore she was anxious that he should
+go, as she had promised to get out certain statistics for Mr. Bonsor.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now you really must go, Mr. Triggs.  You won't think me horrid, will
+you, but I had a half-holiday the other day, and now I must work and
+make up for it.  That's only fair, isn't it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Very well, me dear, I can't stay.  I'll be off and get out of your
+way.  Now don't forget.  Make it up, kiss and be friends.  That's my
+motto."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It isn't a quarrel, Mr. Triggs; but it's no use trying to explain to
+anyone so sweet and nice as you.  Anyhow, I have broken off the
+engagement, and Lord Peter is in no way to blame."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, good-bye, me dear.  I'll see you again soon," said Mr. Triggs,
+still nodding his head with genial conviction as to the rightness of
+his diagnosis.  "And now I'll be trottin'.  Don't forget," and with a
+final look over his shoulder and another nod of wisdom he floated out
+of the room, seeming to leave it cold and bare behind him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I'm blowed!" he muttered as he walked away from Eaton Square.
+Arrived at the corner of Eaton Place, he stood still as if uncertain
+what direction to take.  Seeing a crawling taxi he suddenly seemed
+inspired with an idea.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Hi!  Hi!  Taxi!" he shouted, waving his umbrella.  Having secured the
+taxi and given the man instructions to drive to the Quadrant, he hauled
+himself in and sat down with a sigh of satisfaction.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was a few minutes to one as he asked for Lord Peter Bowen at the
+enquiry-office of the Quadrant.  Two minutes later Peel descended in
+the lift to inform him that his Lordship had not yet returned to lunch.
+Was Mr. Triggs expected?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, no," confessed Mr. Triggs, looking at Peel a little uncertainly.
+"'E wasn't expecting me; but 'e asked me the other night if I'd call in
+when I was passing, and as I was passing I called in, see?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+For a moment Peel seemed to hesitate.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"His Lordship has a luncheon engagement, sir," he said; "but he could
+no doubt see you for two or three minutes if he asked you to call.
+Perhaps you will step this way."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Before Mr. Triggs had a chance of doing as was suggested, Peel had
+turned aside.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, my lady, his Lordship is not in yet; but he will not be more than
+a minute or two.  This gentleman," he looked at the card, "Mr. Triggs,
+is&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, Mr. Triggs, how do you do?" cried Lady Tanagra, extending her hand.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Triggs looked at the exquisite little vision before him in surprise
+and admiration.  He took the proffered hand as if it had been a piece
+of priceless porcelain.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm Lord Peter's sister, you know.  I've heard all about you from
+Patricia.  Do come up and let us have a chat before my brother comes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Triggs followed Lady Tanagra into the lift, too surprised and
+bewildered to make any response to her greeting.  As the lift slid
+upwards he mopped his brow vigorously with his handkerchief.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When they were seated in Bowen's sitting-room he at last found voice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I just been to see 'er," he said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who, Patricia?" asked Lady Tanagra.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Triggs nodded, and there was a look in his eyes which implied that
+he was not at all satisfied with what he had seen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Quarrelled, 'aven't they?"' he asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well," began Lady Tanagra, not quite knowing how much Mr. Triggs
+actually knew of the circumstances of the case.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Said she'd broken it off.  I gave her a talking to, I did.  She'll
+never get another young chap like 'im."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Did you tell her so?" asked Lady Tanagra.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Tell her so, I should think I did!" said Mr. Triggs, "and more than
+once too."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, you foolish, foolish man!" cried Lady Tanagra, wringing her hands
+in mock despair.  A moment afterwards she burst out laughing at the
+comical look of dismay on Mr. Triggs's face.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What 'ave I done?" he cried in genuine alarm.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, don't you see that you have implied that all the luck is on her
+side, and that will make her simply furious?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But&mdash;but&mdash;&mdash;" began Mr. Triggs helplessly, looking very much like a
+scolded child.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now sit down," ordered Lady Tanagra with an irresistible smile, "and
+I'll tell you.  My brother wants to marry Patricia, and Patricia, for
+some reason best known to herself, says that it can't be done.  Now I'm
+sure that she is fond of Peter; but he has been so impetuous that he
+has rather taken her breath away.  I've never known him like it
+before," said Lady Tanagra plaintively.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But 'e's an awfully lucky fellow if 'e gets 'er," broke in Mr. Triggs,
+as if feeling that something were required of him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, of course he is," said Lady Tanagra.  "Now will you help us, Mr.
+Triggs?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Tanagra looked at him with an expression that would have extracted
+a promise of help from St. Anthony himself.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of course I will, me dear.  I&mdash;I beg your pardon," stuttered Mr.
+Triggs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Never mind, let it stand at that," said Lady Tanagra gaily.  "I'm sure
+we're going to be friends, Mr. Triggs."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Knew it the moment I set eyes on you," said Mr. Triggs with conviction.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, we've got to arrange this affair for these young people," said
+Lady Tanagra with a wise air.  "First of all we've got to prove to
+Patricia that she is really in love with Peter.  If she's not in love
+with him, then we've got to make her in love with him.  Do you
+understand?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Triggs nodded his head with an air that clearly said he was far
+from understanding.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, now," said Lady Tanagra.  "Patricia knows only three people that
+know Peter.  There is you, Godfrey Elton, and myself.  Now if she's in
+love with him she will want to hear about him, and&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But ain't she going to see 'im?" demanded Mr. Triggs incredulously.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, she says that she doesn't want Peter ever to see her, write to
+her, telephone to her, or, as far as I can see, exist on the same
+planet with her."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But&mdash;but&mdash;&mdash;" began Mr. Triggs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's no good reasoning with a woman, Mr. Triggs, we women are all as
+unreasonable as the Income Tax.  Now if you'll do as you are told we
+will prove that Patricia is wrong."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Very well, me dear," began Mr. Triggs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now this is my plan," interrupted Lady Tanagra.  "If Patricia really
+cares for Peter she will want to hear about him from friends.  She
+will, very cleverly, as she thinks, lead up the conversation to him
+when she meets you, or when she meets Godfrey Elton, or when she meets
+me.  Now what we have to do is just as carefully to avoid talking about
+him.  Turn the conversation on to some other topic.  Now we've all got
+to plot and scheme and plan like&mdash;like&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Germans," interrupted Mr. Triggs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Splendid!" cried Lady Tanagra, clapping her hands.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But why has she changed her mind?" asked Mr. Triggs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You must never ask a woman why she changes her frock, or why she
+changes her mind, because she never really knows," said Lady Tanagra.
+"Probably she does it because she hasn't got anything else particular
+to do at the moment.  Ah! here's Peter," she cried.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bowen came forward and shook hands cordially with Mr. Triggs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"This is splendid of you!" he said.  "You'll lunch with us, of course."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh no, no," said Mr. Triggs.  "I just ran in to&mdash;to&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To get to know me," said Lady Tanagra with a smile.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of course!  That's it," cried Mr. Triggs, beaming.  "I can't stop to
+lunch though, I'm afraid.  I must be going to&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Have you got a luncheon engagement?" asked Lady Tanagra.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Er&mdash;well, yes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Please don't tell fibs, Mr. Triggs.  You're not engaged to lunch with
+anybody, and you're going to lunch with us, so that's settled."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, bless my soul!" blew Mr. Triggs helplessly as he mopped his head
+with his handkerchief.  "Why, bless my soul!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's no good, Mr. Triggs.  When Tanagra wants anything she has it,"
+said Bowen with a laugh.  "It doesn't matter whether it's the largest
+pear or the nicest man!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Tanagra laughed.  "Now we'll go down into the dining-room."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+For an hour and a half they talked of Patricia, and at the end of the
+meal both Lady Tanagra and Bowen knew that they had a firm ally in Mr.
+Triggs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't forget, Mr. Triggs," cried Lady Tanagra as she bade him good-bye
+in the vestibule.  "You're a match-maker now, and you must be very
+careful."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And Mr. Triggs lifted his hat and waved his umbrella as, wreathed in
+smiles, he trotted towards the revolving doors and out into the street.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+After he had gone Lady Tanagra extracted from Bowen a grudging promise
+of implicit obedience.  He must not see, telephone, write or telegraph
+to Patricia.  He was to eliminate himself altogether.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But for how long, Tan?" he enquired moodily.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It may be for years and it may be for ever," cried Lady Tanagra gaily
+as she buttoned her gloves.  "Anyhow, it's your only chance."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Damn!" muttered Bowen under his breath as he watched her disappear;
+"but I'll give it a trial."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<H4 ALIGN="center">
+II
+</H4>
+
+<P>
+The next afternoon as Patricia walked down the steps of Number 426
+Eaton Square and turned to the left, she was conscious that in spite of
+the summer sunshine the world was very grey about her.  She had not
+gone a hundred yards before Lady Tanagra's grey car slid up beside her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Will you take pity on me, Patricia?  I'm at a loose end," cried Lady
+Tanagra.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia turned with a little cry of pleasure.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Jump in," cried Lady Tanagra.  "It's no good refusing a Bowen.  Our
+epidermises are too thick, or should it be epidermi?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia shook her head and laughed as she seated herself beside Lady
+Tanagra.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The car crooned its way up Sloane Street and across into Knightsbridge,
+Lady Tanagra intent upon her driving.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is it indiscreet to ask where you are taking me?" enquired Patricia
+with elaborate humility.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Tanagra laughed as she jammed on the brake to avoid running into
+the stern of a motor-omnibus.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I feel like a pirate to-day.  I want to run away with someone, or do
+something desperate.  Have you ever felt like that?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A politician's secretary must not encourage such unrespectable
+instincts," she replied.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Tanagra looked at her quickly, noting the flatness of her voice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A wise hen should never brood upon being a hen," she remarked
+oracularly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia laughed.  "It is all very well for Dives to tell Lazarus that
+it is noble to withstand the pangs of hunger," she replied.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now let us go and get tea," said Lady Tanagra, as she turned the car
+into the road running between Kensington Gardens and Hyde Park.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Tea!" cried Patricia, "why it's past five."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Tea is a panacea for all ills and a liquid for all hours.  You have
+only to visit a Government Department for proof of that," said Lady
+Tanagra, as she descended from the car and walked towards the
+umbrella-sheltered tea-tables dotted about beneath the trees.  "And now
+I want to have a talk with you for a few minutes," she said as they
+seated themselves at an empty table.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I feel in the mood for listening," said Patricia, "provided it is not
+to be good advice," she added.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I've been having a serious talk with Peter," said Lady Tanagra.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia looked up at her.  Overhead white, fleecy clouds played a game
+of hide-and-seek with the sunshine.  The trees rustled languidly in the
+breeze, and in the distance a peacock screamed ominously.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have told him," continued Lady Tanagra, "that I will not have you
+worried, and he has promised me not to see you, write to you, telephone
+to you, send you messenger-boys, chocolates, flowers or anything else
+in the world, in fact he's out of your way for ever and ever."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia looked across at Lady Tanagra in surprise, but said nothing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I told him," continued Lady Tanagra evenly, "that I would not have my
+friendship with you spoiled through his impetuous blundering.  I think
+I told him he was suburban.  In fact I quite bullied the poor boy.  So
+now," she added with the air of one who has earned a lifelong debt of
+gratitude, "you will be able to go your way without fear of the
+ubiquitous Peter."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Still Patricia said nothing as she sat looking down upon the empty
+plate before her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now we will forget all about Peter and talk and think of other things.
+Ah! here he is," she cried suddenly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia looked round quickly; but at the sight of Godfrey Elton she
+was conscious of a feeling of disappointment that she would not,
+however, admit.  Her greeting of Elton was a trifle forced.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia was never frank with herself.  If it had been suggested that
+for a moment she hoped that Lady Tanagra's remark referred to Bowen,
+she would instantly have denied it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, Godfrey, don't look at me like that," cried Lady Tanagra.  "I am
+not so gauche as to arrange a parti-à-trois.  I've got someone very
+nice coming for Patricia."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Again Patricia felt herself thrill expectantly.  Five minutes later Mr.
+Triggs was seen sailing along among the tables as if in search of
+someone.  Again Patricia felt that sense of disappointment she had
+experienced on the arrival of Godfrey Elton.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Suddenly Mr. Triggs saw the party and streamed towards them, waving his
+red silk handkerchief in one hand and his umbrella in the other.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He has found something better than the fountain of eternal youth,"
+said Elton to Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Whatever it is he is unconscious of possessing it," replied Patricia
+as she turned to greet Mr. Triggs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm late, I know," explained Mr. Triggs as he shook hands.  "I 'ad to
+run in and see 'Ettie and tell 'er I was coming.  It surprised 'er,"
+and Mr. Triggs chuckled as if at some joke he could not share with the
+others.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now let us have tea," said Lady Tanagra.  "I'm simply dying for it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Triggs sank down heavily into a basket chair.  He looked about
+anxiously, as it creaked beneath his weight, as if in doubt whether or
+no it would bear him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All we want now is&mdash;&mdash;"  Mr. Triggs stopped suddenly and looked
+apprehensively at Lady Tanagra.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What is it you want, Mr. Triggs?" enquired Patricia quickly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Er&mdash;er&mdash;I&mdash;I forget, I&mdash;I forget," floundered Mr. Triggs, still
+looking anxiously at Lady Tanagra.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"When you're in the company of women, Mr. Triggs, you should never
+appear to want anything else.  It makes an unfavourable impression upon
+us."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"God bless my soul, I don't!" cried Mr. Triggs earnestly.  "I've been
+looking forward to this ever since I got your wire yesterday afternoon."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now he has given me away," cried Lady Tanagra.  "How like a man!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Given you away, me dear!" cried Mr. Triggs anxiously.  "What 'ave I
+done?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, you have told these two people here that made an assignation with
+you by telegram."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Made a what, me dear?" enquired Mr. Triggs, his forehead corrugated
+with anxiety.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Lady Tanagra is taking a mean advantage of the heat, Mr. Triggs," said
+Elton.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Anyway, I'll forgive you anything, Mr. Triggs, as you have come," said
+Lady Tanagra.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Triggs's brow cleared and he smiled.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Come!  I should think I would come," he said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Tanagra then explained her meeting with Mr. Triggs and how he had
+striven to avoid her company at luncheon on the previous day.  Mr.
+Triggs protested vigorously.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+During the tea the conversation was entirely in the hands of Lady
+Tanagra, Elton and Mr. Triggs.  Patricia sat silently listening to the
+others.  Several times Lady Tanagra and Mr. Triggs exchanged meaning
+glances.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why ain't you talking, me dear?" Mr. Triggs once asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I like to hear you all," said Patricia, smiling across at him.
+"You're all too clever for me," she added.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Me clever!" cried Mr. Triggs, and then as if the humour of the thing
+had suddenly struck him he went off into gurgles of laughter.  "You
+ought to tell 'Ettie that," he spluttered.  "She thinks 'er old
+father's a fool.  Me clever!" he repeated, and again he went off into
+ripples of mirth.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What are your views on love, Mr. Triggs?" demanded Lady Tanagra
+suddenly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Triggs gazed at her in surprise.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then he looked from Patricia to Elton, as if not quite sure whether or
+no he were expected to be serious.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If I were you I should decline to reply.  Lady Tanagra treats serious
+subjects flippantly," said Elton.  "Her attitude towards life is to
+prepare a pancake as if it were a soufflé."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That proves the Celt in me," cried Lady Tanagra.  "If I were English I
+should make a soufflé as if it were a pancake."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Triggs looked from one to the other in obvious bewilderment.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am perfectly serious in my question," said Lady Tanagra, without the
+vestige of a smile.  "Mr. Triggs is elemental."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To be elemental is to be either indelicate or overbearing," murmured
+Elton, "and Mr. Triggs is neither."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Love, me dear?" said Mr. Triggs, not in the least understanding the
+trend of the conversation.  "I don't think I've got any ideas about it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Surely you are not a cynic. Mr. Triggs," demanded Lady Tanagra.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A what?" enquired Mr. Triggs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Surely you believe in love," said Lady Tanagra.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Me and Mrs. Triggs lived together 'appily for over thirty years," he
+replied gravely, "and when a man an' woman 'ave lived together for all
+that time they get to believe in love.  It's never been the same since
+she died."  His voice became a little husky, and Elton looked at Lady
+Tanagra, who lowered her eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm sorry, Mr. Triggs.  Will you tell us about&mdash;about&mdash;&mdash;?" she broke
+off.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, you see, me dear," said Mr. Triggs in an uncertain voice, "I was
+a foreman when I met 'er, and she was a servant; but&mdash;somehow or other
+it seemed that we were just made for each other.  Once I knew 'er, I
+didn't seem to be able to see things without her.  When I was at
+work&mdash;I was in the building trade, foreman-carpenter," he explained, "I
+used to be thinking of 'er all the time.  If I went anywhere without
+'er&mdash;she only had one night off a week and one day a month&mdash;I would
+always keep thinking of how she would like what I was seeing, or
+eating.  It was a funny feeling," he added reminiscently as if entirely
+unable to explain it.  "Somehow or other I always wanted to 'ave 'er
+with me, so that she might share what I was 'aving.  It was a funny
+feeling," he repeated, and he looked from one to another with moist
+eyes.  "Of course," he added, "I can't explain things like that.  I'm
+not clever."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think, Mr. Triggs, that you've explained love in&mdash;in&mdash;&mdash;"  Lady
+Tanagra broke off and looked at Elton, who was unusually grave.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mr. Triggs has explained it," he replied, "in the only way in which it
+can be explained, and that is by being defined as unexplainable."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Triggs looked at Elton for a moment, then nodded his head violently.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's it, Mr. Elton, that's it.  It's a feeling, not a thing that you
+can put into words."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Tanagra looked at Patricia, who was apparently engrossed in the
+waving tops of the trees.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I shall always remember your definition of love, Mr. Triggs," said
+Lady Tanagra with a far away look in her eyes.  "I think you and Mrs.
+Triggs must have been very happy together."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'Appy, me dear, that wasn't the word for it," said Mr. Triggs.  "And
+when she was taken, I&mdash;I&mdash;&mdash;" he broke off huskily and blew his nose
+vigorously.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Suppose you were very poor, Mr. Triggs," began Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I was when I married," interrupted Mr. Triggs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Suppose you were very poor," continued Patricia, "and you loved
+someone very rich.  What would you do?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"God bless my soul!  I never thought of that.  You see Emily 'adn't
+anything.  She only got sixteen pounds a year."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Tanagra turned her head aside and blinked her eyes furiously.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But suppose, Mr. Triggs," persisted Patricia, "suppose you loved
+someone who was very rich and you were very poor.  What would you do?
+Would you tell them?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+For a moment Patricia allowed her eyes to glance in the direction of
+Elton, and saw that his gaze was fixed upon Mr. Triggs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But what 'as money got to do with it?" demanded Mr. Triggs, a puzzled
+expression on his face.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Exactly!" said Patricia.  "That's what I wanted to know."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Money sometimes has quite a lot to do with life," remarked Elton to no
+one in particular.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"With life, Mr. Elton," said Mr. Triggs; "but not with love."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are an idealist," said Lady Tanagra.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Am I?" said Mr. Triggs, with a smile.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And he is also a dear," said Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Triggs looked at her and smiled.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Tanagra and Elton drove off, Patricia saying that she wanted a
+walk.  Mr. Triggs also declined Lady Tanagra's offer of a lift.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She wanted me to bring 'er with me," announced Mr. Triggs as they
+strolled along by the Serpentine.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who did?"' enquired Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'Ettie.  Ran up to change 'er things and sent out for a taxi."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And what did you say?" enquired Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I didn't say anything; but when the taxi come I just slipped in and
+came along 'ere.  Fancy 'Ettie and Lady Tanagra!" said Mr. Triggs.
+"No," he added a moment later.  "It's no good trying to be what you
+ain't.  If 'Ettie was to remember she's a builder's daughter, and not
+think she's a great lady, she'd be much 'appier," said Mr. Triggs with
+unconscious wisdom.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Suppose I was to try and be like Mr. Elton," continued Mr. Triggs,
+"I'd look like a fool."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We all love to have you just as you are, Mr. Triggs, and we won't
+allow you to change," said Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Triggs smiled happily.  He was as susceptible to flattery as a
+young girl.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, it ain't much good trying to be what you're not.  I've been a
+working-man, and I'm not ashamed of it, and you and Lady Tanagra and
+Mr. Elton ain't ashamed of being seen with me.  But 'Ettie, she'd no
+more be seen with 'er old father in Hyde Park than she'd be seen with
+'im in a Turkish bath."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We all have our weaknesses, don't you think?" said Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And Mr. Triggs agreed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You, for instance, have a weakness for High Society," continued
+Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Me, me dear!" exclaimed Mr. Triggs in surprise.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes," said Patricia, "it's no good denying it.  Don't you like knowing
+Lord Peter and Lady Tanagra, Mr. Elton and all the rest of them?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's not because they're in Society," began Mr. Triggs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, yes it is!  You imagine that you are now a very great personage.
+Soon you will be moving from Streatham into Park Lane, and then you
+will not know me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, me dear!" said Mr. Triggs in distress.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's no good denying it," continued Patricia.  "Look at the way you
+made friends with Lord Peter."  Patricia was priding herself on the way
+in which she had led the conversation round to Bowen; but Mr. Triggs
+was not to be drawn.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"God bless my soul!" he cried, stopping still and removing his hat,
+mopping his brow vigorously.  "I don't mind whether anyone has a title
+or not.  It's just them I like.  Now look at Lady Tanagra.  No one
+would think she was a lady."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Really, Mr. Triggs!  I shall tell her if you take her character away
+in this manner.  She's one of the most exquisitely bred people I have
+ever met."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Triggs looked reproachfully at Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's a bit 'ard on a young gal when she finds 'er father drops 'is
+aitches," he remarked, reverting to his daughter.  "I often wonder
+whether I was right in giving 'Ettie such an education.  She went to an
+'Igh School at Eastmouth," he added.  "It only made 'er dissatisfied.
+It was 'ard luck 'er 'aving me for a father," he concluded more to
+himself than to Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am perfectly willing to adopt you as a father, Mr. Triggs, if you
+are in want of adoption," said Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Triggs turned to her with a sunny smile.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ah! you're different, me dear.  You see you're a lady born, same as
+Lady Tanagra; but 'Ettie ain't.  That's what makes 'er sensitive like.
+It's a funny world," Mr. Triggs continued; "if you go about with one
+boot, and you 'appen to be a duke, people make a fuss of you because
+you're a character; but if you 'appen to be a builder and go about in
+the same way they call you mad."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+That evening Patricia was particularly unresponsive to Mr. Bolton's
+attempts to engage her in conversation.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap16"></A>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XVI
+</H3>
+
+<H4 ALIGN="center">
+PATRICIA'S INCONSTANCY
+</H4>
+
+<P>
+Patricia's engagement and approaching marriage were the sole topics of
+conversation at Galvin House, at meal-times in particular.  Bowen was
+discussed and admired from every angle and aspect.  Questions rained
+upon Patricia.  When was she likely to get married?  Where was the
+wedding to take place?  Would she go abroad for her honeymoon?  Who was
+to provide the wedding-cake?  Where did she propose to get her
+trousseau?  Would the King and Queen be present at the wedding?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At first Patricia had endeavoured to answer coherently; but finding
+this useless, she soon drifted into the habit of replying at random,
+with the result that Galvin House received much curious information.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Wangle's olive-branch was an announcement of how pleased the dear
+bishop would have been to marry Miss Brent and Lord Peter had he been
+alive.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Bolton joked as feebly as ever.  Mr. Cordal masticated with his
+wonted vigour.  Mr. Sefton became absorbed in the prospect of the
+raising of the military age limit, and strove to hearten himself by
+constant references to the time when he would be in khaki.  Miss Sikkum
+continued to surround herself with an atmosphere of romance, and
+invariably returned in the evening breathless from her chaste
+endeavours to escape from some "awful man" who had pursued her.  The
+reek of cooking seemed to become more obvious, and the dreariness of
+Sundays more pronounced.  Some times Patricia thought of leaving Galvin
+House for a place where she would be less notorious; but something
+seemed to bind her to the old associations.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As she returned each evening, her eyes instinctively wandered towards
+the table and the letter-rack.  If there were a parcel, her heart would
+bound suddenly, only to resume its normal pace when she discovered that
+it was for someone else.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Of Lady Tanagra she saw little, news of Bowen she received none.  Her
+most dexterous endeavours to cross-examine Mr. Triggs ended in failure.
+He seemed to have lost all interest in Bowen.  Lady Tanagra never even
+mentioned his name.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Whatever the shortcomings of Lady Tanagra and Mr. Triggs in this
+direction, however, they were more than compensated for by Mrs. Bonsor.
+Her effusive friendliness Patricia found overwhelming, and her
+insistent hospitality, which took the form of a flood of invitations to
+Patricia and Bowen to lunch, dine or to do anything they chose in her
+house or elsewhere, was bewildering.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At last in self-defence Patricia had to tell Mrs. Bonsor that Bowen was
+too much occupied with his duties even to see her; but this seemed to
+increase rather than diminish Mrs. Bonsor's hospitable instincts, which
+included Lady Tanagra as well as her brother.  Would not Miss Brent
+bring Lady Tanagra to tea or to luncheon one day?  Perhaps they would
+take tea with Mrs. Bonsor at the Ritz one afternoon?  Could they lunch
+at the Carlton?  To all of these invitations Patricia replied with cold
+civility.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In her heart Mrs. Bonsor was raging against the "airs" of her husband's
+secretary; but she saw that Lady Tanagra and Lord Peter might be
+extremely useful to her and to her husband in his career.  Consequently
+she did not by any overt sign show her pique.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+One day when Patricia was taking down letters for Mr. Bonsor, Mr.
+Triggs burst into the library in a state of obvious excitement.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where's 'Ettie?" he demanded, after having saluted Patricia and Mr.
+Bonsor.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Bonsor looked at him reproachfully.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'Ere, ring for 'Ettie, A. B., I've got something to show you all."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Bonsor pressed the bell.  As he did so Mrs. Bonsor entered the
+room, having heard her father's voice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+With great empressement Mr. Triggs produced from the tail pocket of his
+coat a folded copy of the "Illustrated Universe".  Flattening it out
+upon the table he moistened his thumb and finger and, with great
+deliberation, turned over several leaves, then indicating a page he
+demanded:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What do you think of that?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That," was a full-page picture of Lady Tanagra walking in the Park
+with Mr. Triggs.  The portrait of Lady Tanagra was a little indistinct;
+but that of Mr. Triggs was as clear as daylight, and a remarkable
+likeness.  Underneath was printed "Lady Tanagra Bowen and a friend
+walking in the Park."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Bonsor devoured the picture and then looked up at her father, a
+new respect in her eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What do you think of it, 'Ettie?" enquired Mr. Triggs again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's a very good likeness, father," said Mrs. Bonsor weakly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was Patricia, however, who expressed what Mr. Triggs had anticipated.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You're becoming a great personage, Mr. Triggs," she cried.  "If you
+are not careful you will compromise Lady Tanagra."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Triggs chuckled with glee as he mopped his forehead with his
+handkerchief.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I rang 'er up this morning," he said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Rang who up, father?" enquired Mrs. Bonsor.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Lady Tan," said Mr. Triggs, watching his daughter to see the effect of
+the diminutive upon her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Was she annoyed?" enquired Mrs. Bonsor.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Annoyed!" echoed Mr. Triggs.  "Annoyed!  She was that pleased she's
+asked me to lunch to-morrow.  Why, she introduced me to a duchess last
+week, an' I'm goin' to 'er place to tea."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wish you would bring Lady Tanagra here one day, father," said Mrs.
+Bonsor.  "Why not ask her to lunch here to-morrow?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not me, 'Ettie," said Mr. Triggs wisely.  "If you want the big fish,
+you've got to go out and catch 'em yourself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was a pause.  Patricia hid a smile in her handkerchief.  Mr.
+Bonsor was deep in a speech upon the question of rationing fish.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, A. B., what 'ave you got to say?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dear fish may mean revolution," murmured Mr. Bonsor.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Triggs looked at his son-in-law in amazement.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What's that you say?" he demanded.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I&mdash;I beg your pardon.  I&mdash;I was thinking," apologised Mr. Bonsor.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now, father," said Mrs. Bonsor, "will you come into the morning-room?
+I want to talk to you, and I'm sure Arthur wants to get on with his
+work."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Triggs was reluctantly led away, leaving Patricia to continue the
+day's work.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia now saw little of Mr. Triggs, in fact since Lady Tanagra had
+announced that Bowen would no longer trouble her, she found life had
+become singularly grey.  Things that before had amused and interested
+her now seemed dull and tedious.  Mr. Bolton's jokes were more obvious
+than ever, and Mr. Cordal's manners more detestable.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The constant interrogations levelled at her as to where Bowen was, and
+why he had not called to see her, she found difficult to answer.
+Several times she had gone alone to the theatre, or to a cinema, in
+order that it might be thought she was with Bowen.  At last the strain
+became so intolerable that she spoke to Mrs. Craske-Morton, hinting
+that unless Galvin House took a little less interest in her affairs,
+she would have to leave.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The effect of her words was instantly manifest.  Wherever she moved she
+seemed to interrupt whispering groups.  When she entered the
+dining-room there would be a sudden cessation of conversation, and
+everyone would look up with an innocence that was too obvious to
+deceive even themselves.  If she went into the lounge on her return
+from Eaton Square, the same effect was noticeable.  When she was
+present the conversation was forced and artificial.  Sentences would be
+begun and left unfinished, as if the speaker had suddenly remembered
+that the subject was taboo.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia found herself wishing that they would speak out what was in
+their minds.  Anything would be preferable to the air of mystery that
+seemed to pervade the whole place.  She could not be unaware of the
+significant glances that were exchanged when it was thought she was not
+looking.  Several times she had been asked if she were not feeling
+well, and her looking-glass reflected a face that was pale and drawn,
+with dark lines under the eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+One evening, when she had gone to her room directly after dinner, there
+was a gentle knock at her door.  She opened it to find Mrs. Hamilton,
+looking as if it would take only a word to send her creeping away again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Come in, you dear little Grey Lady," cried Patricia, putting her arm
+affectionately round Mrs. Hamilton's small shoulders, and leading her
+over to a basket-chair by the window.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+For some time they talked of nothing in particular.  At last Mrs.
+Hamilton said:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I&mdash;I hope you won't think me impertinent, my dear; but&mdash;but&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I should never think anything you said or did impertinent," said
+Patricia, smiling.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You know&mdash;&mdash;" began Mrs. Hamilton, and then broke off.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Anyone would think you were thoroughly afraid of me," said Patricia
+with a smile.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't like interfering," said Mrs. Hamilton, "but I am very worried."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She looked so pathetic in her anxiety that Patricia bent down and
+kissed her on the cheek.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You dear little thing," she cried, "tell me what is on your mind, and
+I will do the best I can to help you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am very&mdash;er&mdash;worried about you, my dear," began Mrs. Hamilton
+hesitatingly.  "You are looking so pale and tired and worn.  I&mdash;I fear
+you have something on your mind and&mdash;and&mdash;&mdash;" she broke off, words
+failing her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's the summer," replied Patricia, smiling.  "I always find the hot
+weather trying, more trying even than Mr. Bolton's jokes," she smiled.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are you&mdash;are you sure it's nothing else?" said Mrs. Hamilton.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Quite sure," said Patricia.  "What else should it be?"  She was
+conscious of her reddening cheeks.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You ought to go out more," said Mrs. Hamilton gently.  "After sitting
+indoors all day you want fresh air and exercise."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And with that Mrs. Hamilton had to rest content.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia could not explain the absurd feeling she experienced that she
+might miss something if she left the house.  It was all so vague, so
+intangible.  All she was conscious of was some hidden force that seemed
+to bind her to the house, or, when by an effort of will she broke from
+its influence, seemed to draw her back again.  She could not analyse
+the feeling, she was only conscious of its existence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+From Miss Brent she had received a characteristic reply to her letter.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+"DEAR PATRICIA," she wrote,
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have read with pain and surprise your letter.  What your poor dear
+father would have thought I cannot conceive.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What I did was done from the best motives, as I felt you were
+compromising yourself by a secret engagement.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am sorry to find that you have become exceedingly self-willed of
+late, and I fear London has done you no good.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"As your sole surviving relative, it is my duty to look after your
+welfare.  This I promised your dear father on his death-bed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Gratitude I do not ask, nor do I expect it; but I am determined to do
+my duty by my brother's child.  I cannot but deplore the tone in which
+you last wrote to me, and also the rather foolish threat that your
+letter contained.
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+"Your affectionate aunt,<BR>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"ADELAIDE BRENT.<BR>
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"P.S.&mdash;I shall make a point of coming up to London soon.  Even your
+rudeness will not prevent me from doing my duty by my brother's
+child.&mdash;A. B."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+As she tore up the letter, Patricia remembered her father once saying,
+"Your aunt's sense of duty is the most offensive sense I have ever
+encountered."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+One day as Patricia was endeavouring to sort out into some sort of
+coherence a sheaf of notes that Mr. Bonsor had made upon Botulism, Mr.
+Triggs entered the library.  After his cheery "How goes it, me dear?"
+he stood for some moments gazing down at her solicitously.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You ain't lookin' well, me dear," he said with conviction.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's a sure way to a woman's heart," replied Patricia gaily.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'Ow's that, me dear?" he questioned.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, telling her that she's looking plain," retorted Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Triggs protested.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All I want is a holiday," went on Patricia.  "There are only three
+weeks to wait and then&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was, however, no joy of anticipation in her voice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You're frettin'!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia turned angrily upon Mr. Triggs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Fretting!  What on earth do you mean, Mr. Triggs?" she demanded.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Triggs sat down suddenly, overwhelmed by Patricia's indignation.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't be cross with me, me dear."  Mr. Triggs looked so like a child
+fearing rebuke that she was forced to smile.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You must not say absurd things then," she retorted.  "What have I got
+to fret about?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Triggs quailed beneath her challenging glance.  "I&mdash;I'm sorry, me
+dear," he said contritely.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't be sorry, Mr. Triggs," said Patricia severely; "be accurate."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm sorry, me dear," repeated Mr. Triggs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But that doesn't answer my question," Patricia persisted.  "What have
+I to fret about?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Triggs mopped his brow vigorously.  He invariably expressed his
+emotions with his handkerchief.  He used it strategically, tactically,
+defensively, continuously.  It was to him what the lines of Torres
+Vedras were to Wellington.  He retired behind its sheltering folds, to
+emerge a moment later, his forces reorganised and re-arrayed.  When at
+a loss what to say or do, it was his handkerchief upon which he fell
+back; if he required time in which to think, he did it behind its ample
+and protecting folds.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You see, me dear," said Mr. Triggs at length, avoiding Patricia's
+relentless gaze, as he proceeded to stuff away the handkerchief in his
+tail pocket.  "You see, me dear&mdash;&mdash;"  Again he paused.  "You see, me
+dear," he began for a third time, "I thought you was frettin' over your
+work or something, when you ought to be enjoyin' yourself," he lied.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia looked at him, her conscience smiting her.  She smiled
+involuntarily.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I never fret about anything except when you don't come to see me," she
+said gaily.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Triggs beamed with good-humour, his fears now quite dispelled.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You're run down, me dear," he said with decision.  "You want an
+'oliday.  I must speak to A. B. about it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If you do I shall be very angry," said Patricia; "Mr. Bonsor is always
+very kind and considerate."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It&mdash;it isn't&mdash;&mdash;" began Mr. Triggs, then paused.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It isn't what?" Patricia smiled at his look of concern.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If&mdash;if it is," began Mr. Triggs.  Again he paused, then added with a
+gulp, "Couldn't I lend you some?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+For a moment Patricia failed to follow the drift of his remark, then
+when she appreciated that he was offering to lend her money she
+flushed.  For a moment she did not reply, then seeing the anxiety
+stamped upon his kindly face, she said with great deliberation:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think you must be quite the nicest man in all the world.  If ever I
+decide to borrow money I'll come to you first."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Triggs blushed like a schoolboy.  He had fully anticipated being
+snubbed.  He had found from experience that Patricia had of late become
+very uncertain in her moods.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They were interrupted by the entrance of Mr. Bonsor.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'Ere, A. B.!" cried Mr. Triggs.  "What do you mean by it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mean by what?" enquired Mr. Bonsor, busy with an imaginary speech upon
+street noises, suggested by a barrel-piano in the distance.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You're working 'er too 'ard, A. B.," said Mr. Triggs with conviction.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Working who too hard?"  Mr. Bonsor looked helplessly at Patricia.  He
+was always at a disadvantage with his father-in-law, whose bluntness of
+speech seemed to demoralise him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mr. Triggs thinks that you are slowly killing me," laughed Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Bonsor looked uncertainly at Patricia, and Mr. Triggs gazed at Mr.
+Bonsor.  He had no very high opinion of his daughter's husband.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, mind you don't overwork 'er," said Mr. Triggs as he rose to go.
+A few minutes later Patricia was deep in the absorbing subject of the
+life history of the potato-beetle.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ugh!" she cried as the clock in the hall chimed five.  "I hate
+beetles, and," she paused a moment to tuck away a stray strand of hair,
+"I never want to see a potato as long as I live."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+That evening when she reached Galvin House she went to her room, and
+there subjected herself to a searching examination in the
+looking-glass, she was forced to confess to the paleness of her face
+and dark marks beneath her eyes.  She explained them by summer in
+London, coupled with the dreariness of Arthur Bonsor, M.P., and his
+mania for statistics.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You're human yeast, Patricia!" she murmured to her reflection; "at
+least you're paid two-and-a-half guineas a week to try to leaven the
+unleavenable, and you mustn't complain if sometimes you get a little
+tired.  Fretting!"  There was indignation in her voice.  "What have you
+got to fret about?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+With the passage of each day, however, she grew more listless and
+weary.  She came to dread meal-times, with their irritating chatter and
+uninspiring array of faces that she had come almost to dislike.  She
+was conscious of whisperings and significant looks among her
+fellow-boarders.  She resented even Gustave's cow-like gaze of
+sympathetic anxiety as she declined the food he offered her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Tanagra and Mr. Triggs never asked her out.  Everybody seemed
+suddenly to have deserted her.  Sometimes she would catch a glimpse of
+them in the Park on Sunday morning Once she saw Bowen; but he did not
+see her.  "The daily round and common task" took on a new and sinister
+meaning for her.  Sometimes her thoughts would travel on a few years
+into the future.  What did it hold for her?  Instinctively she
+shuddered at the loneliness of it all.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+One afternoon on her return to Galvin House, Gustave opened the door.
+He had evidently been on the watch.  His kindly face was beaming with
+goodwill.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, mees!" he cried.  "Mees Brent is here."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Aunt Adelaide!" cried Patricia, her heart sinking.  Then seeing the
+comical lock of indecision upon Gustave's face caused by her despairing
+exclamation she laughed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When she entered the lounge, it was to find Miss Brent sitting upright
+upon the stiffest chair in the middle of the room.  Miss Wangle and
+Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe were seated together in the extreme corner, Mrs.
+Barnes and two or three others were grouped by the window.  The
+atmosphere was tense.  Something had apparently happened.  Patricia
+learned that from the grim set of Miss Brent's mouth.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I want to talk to you, Patricia," Miss Brent announced after the
+customary greeting.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, Aunt Adelaide," said Patricia, sinking into a chair with a sigh
+of resignation.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Somewhere private," said Miss Brent.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There is no privacy at Galvin House," murmured Patricia, "except in
+the bathroom."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Patricia, don't be indelicate," snapped Miss Brent.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm not indelicate, Aunt Adelaide, I'm merely being accurate," said
+Patricia wearily.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Cannot we go to your room?" enquired Miss Brent.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Impossible!" announced Patricia.  "It's like an oven by now.  The sun
+is on it all the afternoon.  Besides," continued Patricia, "my affairs
+are public property here.  We are quite a commune.  We have everything
+in common&mdash;except our toothbrushes," she added as an afterthought.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well!  Let us get over there."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Brent rose and made for the corner farthest from Miss Wangle and
+Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe.  Patricia followed her wearily.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I've just snubbed those two women," announced Miss Brent, as she
+seated herself in a basket-chair that squeaked protestingly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There were indications of electricity in the air," remarked Patricia
+calmly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I want to have a serious talk with you, Patricia," said Miss Brent in
+her best it's-my-duty-cost-it-what-it-may manner.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How can anyone be serious in this heat?" protested Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I owe it to your poor dear father to&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"This debtor and creditor business is killing romance," murmured
+Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have your welfare to consider," proceeded Miss Brent.  "I&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't you think you've done enough mischief already, Aunt Adelaide?"
+enquired Patricia coolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mischief!  I?" exclaimed Miss Brent in astonishment.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia nodded.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"As your sole surviving relative it is my duty&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't you think," interrupted Patricia, "that just for once you could
+neglect your duty?  Sin is wonderfully exhilarating."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Patricia!" almost shrieked Miss Brent, horror in her eyes.  "Are you
+mad?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," replied Patricia, "only a little weary."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You must have a tonic," announced Miss Brent.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia shuddered.  She still remembered her childish sufferings
+resulting from Miss Brent's interpretation and application of The
+Doctor at Home.  She was convinced that she had swallowed every remedy
+the book contained, and been rubbed with every liniment its pages
+revealed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, Aunt Adelaide," she said evenly.  "All I require is that you
+should cease interfering in my affairs."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How dare you!  How&mdash;&mdash;"  Miss Brent paused wordless.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am prepared to accept you as an aunt," continued Patricia, outwardly
+calm; but almost stifled by the pounding of her heart.  "It is God's
+will; but if you persist in assuming the mantle of Mrs. Grundy,
+combined with the Infallibility of the Pope, then I must protest."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Protest!" repeated Miss Brent, repeating the word as if not fully
+comprehending its meaning.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If I am able to earn my own living, then I am able to conduct my own
+love affairs."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But&mdash;&mdash;" began Miss Brent.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am sorry to appear rude, Aunt Adelaide, but it is much better to be
+frank.  I am sure you mean well; but the fact of your being my sole
+surviving relative places me at a disadvantage.  If there were two of
+you or three, you could quarrel about me, and thus preserve the
+balance.  Now let us talk about something else."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+For once in her life Miss Brent was nonplussed.  She regarded her niece
+as if she had been a two-tailed giraffe, or a double-headed mastodon.
+Had she been American she would have known it to be brain-storm; as it
+was she decided that Patricia was sickening for some serious illness
+that had produced a temperature.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In all her experience of "the Family" never once had Miss Brent been
+openly defied in this way, and she had no reserves upon which to fall
+back.  She held personal opinion and inclination must always take
+secondary place to "the Family."  The individual must be sacrificed to
+the group, provided the individual were not herself.  Births, deaths,
+marriages, christenings, funerals, weddings, were solemn functions that
+must be regarded as involving not the principals themselves so much as
+their relatives.  Her doctrine was, although she would not have
+expressed it so philosophically, that the individual is mortal; but the
+family is immortal.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+That anyone lived for himself or herself never seemed to occur to Miss
+Brent.  If their actions were acceptable to the family and at the same
+time pleased the principals, then so much the better for the
+principals; if, on the other hand, the family disapproved, then the
+duty of the principals was clear.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+This open flouting of her prides and her prejudices was to Miss Brent a
+great blow.  It seemed to stun her.  She was at a loss how to proceed;
+all she realised was that she must save "the Family" at any cost.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now tell me what happened when you came in," said Patricia sweetly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I must be going," said Miss Brent solemnly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Must you?" enquired Patricia politely; but rising lest her aunt should
+change her mind.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now remember," said Patricia as they walked along the hall, "you've
+lost me one matrimonial fish.  If I get another nibble you must keep
+out of&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+But Miss Brent had fled.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, that's that!" sighed Patricia as she walked slowly upstairs.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap17"></A>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XVII
+</H3>
+
+<H4 ALIGN="center">
+LADY PEGGY MAKES A FRIEND
+</H4>
+
+<P>
+One Sunday morning as Patricia was sitting in the Park watching the
+promenaders and feeling very lonely, she saw coming across the grass
+towards her Godfrey Elton accompanied by a pretty dark girl in an amber
+costume and a black hat.  She bowed her acknowledgment of Elton's
+salute, and watched the pair as they passed on in the direction of
+Marble Arch.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Suddenly the girl stopped and turned.  For a moment Elton stood
+irresolute, then he also turned and they both walked in Patricia's
+direction.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Lady Peggy insisted that we should break in upon your solitude," said
+Elton, having introduced the two girls.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You will forgive me, won't you?" said Lady Peggy, "but I so wanted to
+know you.  You see Peter has the reputation of being invulnerable.
+We're all quite breathless from our fruitless endeavours to entangle
+him, and I wanted to see what you were like."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm afraid you'll find I'm quite common-place," said Patricia,
+smiling.  It was impossible to be annoyed with Lady Peggy.  Her
+frankness was disarming, and her curiosity that of a child.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I always say," bubbled Lady Peggy, "that there are only two men in
+London worth marrying, and they neither of them will have me, although
+I've worked most terribly hard."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who are they?" enquired Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh!  Goddy's one," she said, indicating Elton with a nod, "and Peter's
+the other.  They are both prepared to be brothers to me; but they're
+not sufficiently generous to save me from dying an old maid."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I must apologise for inflicting Peggy upon you, Miss Brent," said
+Elton; "but when you get to know her you may even like her."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm not going to wait until I know her," said Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Bravo!" cried Lady Peggy, clapping her hands.  "That's a snub for you,
+Goddy," she said, then turning again to Patricia, "I know we're going
+to be friends, and you can afford to be generous to a defeated rival."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I must warn you against Lady Peggy," said Elton quietly.  "She's a
+most dangerous young woman."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And now, Patricia," said Lady Peggy, "I'm going to call you Patricia,
+and you must call me Peggy.  I want you to do me a very great favour."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia looked at the girl, rather bewildered and breathless by the
+precipitancy with which she made friends.  "I'm sure I will if I
+possibly can," she replied.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I want you to come and lunch with us," said Lady Peggy.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's very kind of you, I shall be delighted some day," replied
+Patricia conventionally.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, now!" said Lady Peggy.  "This very day that ever is.  I want you
+to meet Daddy.  He's such a dear.  Goddy will come, so you won't be
+lonely," she added.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm afraid I've got&mdash;&mdash;" began Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Please don't be afraid you've got anything," pleaded Lady Peggy.  "If
+you've got an engagement throw it over.  Everybody throws over
+engagements for me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But&mdash;&mdash;" began Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, please don't be tiresome," said Lady Peggy, screwing up her
+eyebrows.  "I shall have all I can do to persuade Goddy to come, and
+it's so exhausting."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I will come with pleasure," said Elton, "if only to protect Miss Brent
+from your overwhelming friendliness."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, you odious creature!" cried Lady Peggy, then turning to Patricia
+she added with mock tragedy in her voice, "Oh! the love I've languished
+on that man, the gladness of the eyes I have turned upon him, the
+pressures of the hand I've been willing to bestow on him, and this is
+how he treats me."  Then with a sudden change she added, "But you will
+come, won't you?  I do so want you to meet Daddy."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If the truth must be told," said Elton, "Peggy merely wants to be able
+to exploit you, as everybody is wanting to know about you and what you
+are like.  Now she will be a celebrity, and able to describe you in
+detail to all her many men friends and to her women enemies."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Peggy deliberately turned her back upon Elton.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now we are going to have another little walk and then we'll go and get
+our nosebags on," she announced.  "No, you're not going to walk between
+us"&mdash;this to Elton&mdash;"I want to be next to Patricia," she announced.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia felt bewildered by the suddenness with which Lady Peggy had
+descended upon her.  She scarcely listened to the flow of small talk
+she kept up.  She was conscious that Elton's hand was constantly at the
+salute, and that Lady Peggy seemed to be indulging in a series of
+continuous bows.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh! do let's get away somewhere," cried Lady Peggy at length.  "My
+neck aches, and I feel my mouth will set in a silly grin.  Why on earth
+do we know so many people, Goddy?  Do you know," she added
+mischievously, "I'd love to have a big megaphone and stand on a chair
+and cry out who you are.  Then everybody would flock round, because
+they all want to know who it is that has captured Peter the Hermit, as
+we call him."  She looked at Patricia appraisingly.  "I think I can
+understand now," she said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Understand what?" said Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What it is in you that attracts Peter."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia gasped.  "Really," she began.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, we girls have all been trying to make love to Peter and fuss over
+him, whereas you would rather snub him, and that's very good for Peter.
+It's just the sort of thing that would attract him."  Then with another
+sudden change she turned to Elton and said, "Goddy, in future I'm going
+to snub you, then perhaps you'll love me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia laughed outright.  She felt strongly drawn to this
+inconsequent child-girl.  She found herself wondering what would be the
+impression she would create upon the Galvin House coterie, who would
+find all their social and moral virtues inverted by such directness of
+speech.  She could see Miss Wangle's internal struggle, disapproval of
+Lady Peggy's personality mingling with respect for her rank.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, there's Tan!" Lady Peggy broke in upon Patricia's thoughts "Goddy,
+call to her, shout, wave your hat.  Haven't you got a whistle?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+But Lady Tanagra had seen the party, and was coming towards them
+accompanied by Mr. Triggs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Peggy danced towards Lady Tanagra.  "Oh, Tan, I've found her!" she
+cried, nodding to Mr. Triggs, whom she appeared to know.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Found whom?" enquired Lady Tanagra.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Patricia.  The captor of St. Anthony, and we're going to be friends,
+and she's coming to lunch with me to meet Daddy, and Goddy's coming
+too, so don't you dare to carry him off.  Oh, Mr. Triggs! isn't it a
+lovely day," she cried, turning to Mr. Triggs, who, hat in hand, was
+mopping his brow.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Beautiful, me dear, beautiful," he exclaimed, beaming upon her and
+turning to shake hands with Patricia.  "Well, me dear, how goes it?" he
+enquired.  Then looking at her keenly he added, "Why, you're looking
+much better."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia smiled, conscious that the improvement in her looks was not a
+little due to Lady Peggy and her bright chatter.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You've become such a gad-about, Mr. Triggs, that you forget poor me,"
+she said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh no, he doesn't!" broke in Lady Peggy, "he's always talking about
+you.  Whenever I try to make love to him he always drags you in.  I've
+really come to hate you, Patricia, because you seem to come between me
+and all my love affairs.  Oh!  I wish we could find Peter," cried Lady
+Peggy suddenly, "that would complete the party."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia hoped fervently that they would not come across Bowen.  She
+saw that it would make the situation extremely awkward.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And now we must dash off for lunch," cried Lady Peggy, "or we shall be
+late and Daddy will be cross."  She shook hands with Mr. Triggs, blew a
+kiss at Lady Tanagra and, before Patricia knew it, she was walking with
+Lady Peggy and Elton in the direction of Curzon Street.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia was in some awe of meeting the Duke of Gayton.  Hitherto she
+had encountered only the smaller political fry, friends and
+acquaintances of Mr. Bonsor, who had always treated her as a secretary.
+The Duke had been in the first Coalition Ministry, but had been forced
+to retire on account of a serious illness.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Look whom I've caught!" cried Lady Peggy as she bubbled into the
+dining-room, where some twelve or fourteen guests were in process of
+seating themselves at the table.  "Look whom I've caught!  Daddy," she
+addressed herself to a small clean-shaven man, with beetling eyebrows
+and a broad, intellectual head.  "It's the captor of Peter the Hermit."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The Duke smiled and shook hands with Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You must come and sit by me," he said in particularly sweet and
+well-modulated voice, which seemed to give the lie to the somewhat
+stern and searching appearance of his eyes.  "Peter is a great friend
+of mine."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia was conscious of flushed cheeks as she took her seat next to
+the Duke.  Later she discovered that these Sunday luncheons were always
+strictly informal, no order of precedence being observed.  Young and
+old were invited, grave and gay.  The talk was sometimes frivolous,
+sometimes serious.  Sunday was, in the Duke's eyes, a day of rest, and
+conversation must follow the path of least resistance.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Whilst the other guests were seating themselves, Patricia looked round
+the table with interest.  She recognised a well-known Cabinet Minister
+and a bishop.  Next to her on the other side was a man with hungry,
+searching eyes, whose fair hair was cropped so closely to his head as
+to be almost invisible.  Later she learned that he was a Serbian
+patriot, who had prepared a wonderful map of New Serbia, which he
+always carried with him.  Elton had described it as "the map that
+passeth all understanding."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It embraced Bulgaria, Roumania, Transylvania, Montenegro, Greece,
+Albania, Bessarabia, and portions of other countries.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's a sort of game," Lady Peggy explained later.  "If you can escape
+without his having produced his map, then you've won," she added.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At first the Duke devoted himself to Patricia, obviously with the
+object of placing her at her ease.  She was fascinated by his voice.
+He had the reputation of being a brilliant talker; but Patricia decided
+that even if he had possessed the most commonplace ideas, he would have
+invested them with a peculiar interest on account of the whimsical
+tones in which he expressed them.  He was a man of remarkable dignity
+of bearing, and Patricia decided that she would be able to feel very
+much afraid of him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In answer to a question Patricia explained that she had only met Lady
+Peggy that morning.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And what do you think of Peggy's whirlwind methods?" asked the Duke
+with a smile.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think they are quite irresistible," replied Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She makes friends quicker than anyone I ever met and keeps them
+longer," said the Duke.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Presently the conversation turned on the question of the
+re-afforestation of Great Britain, springing out of a remark made by
+the Cabinet Minister to the Duke.  Soon the two, aided by a number of
+other guests, were deep in the intricacies of politics.  During a lull
+in the conversation the Duke turned to Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am afraid this is all very dull for you, Miss Brent," he remarked
+pleasantly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"On the contrary," said Patricia, "I am greatly interested."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Interested in politics?" questioned the Duke with a tinge of surprise
+in his voice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Gradually Patricia found herself drawn into the conversation.  For the
+first time in her life she found her study of Blue Books and her
+knowledge of statistics of advantage and use.  The Cabinet Minister
+leaned forward with interest.  The other guests had ceased their local
+conversation to listen to what it was that was so clearly interesting
+their host and the Cabinet Minister.  In Patricia's remarks there was
+the freshness of unconvention.  The old political war-horses saw how
+things appeared to an intelligent contemporary who was not trammelled
+by tradition and parliamentary procedure.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Suddenly Patricia became aware that she had monopolised the
+conversation and that everyone was listening to her.  She flushed and
+stopped.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Please go on," said the Cabinet Minister; "don't stop, it's most
+interesting."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+But Patricia had become self-conscious.  However, the Duke with great
+tact picked up the thread, and soon the conversation became general.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As they rose from the table the Duke whispered to Patricia, "Don't
+hurry away, please, I want to have a chat with you after the others
+have gone."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As they went to the drawing-room, Lady Peggy came up to Patricia and
+linking her arm in hers, said:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm dreadfully afraid of you now, Patricia.  Why everybody was
+positively drinking in your words.  Wherever did you learn so much?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You cannot be secretary to a rising politician," said Patricia with a
+smile, "without learning a lot of statistics.  I have to read up all
+sorts of things about pigs and babies and beet-root and street-noises
+and all sorts of objectionable things."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What do you think of her, Goddy?" cried Lady Peggy to Elton as he
+joined them.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm afraid she has made me feel very ignorant," replied Elton.  "Just
+as you, Peggy, always make me feel very wise."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In the drawing-room the Serbian attached himself to Patricia and
+produced his "map of obliteration," as the Duke had once called it,
+explaining to her at great length how nearly all the towns and cities
+in Europe were for the most part populated by Serbs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was obvious to her, from the respect with which she was treated,
+that her remarks at luncheon had made a great impression.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When most of the other guests had departed, the Duke walked over to
+her, and dismissing Peggy, entered into a long conversation on
+political and parliamentary matters.  He was finally interrupted by
+Lady Peggy.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Look here, Daddy, if you steal my friends I shall&mdash;&mdash;" she paused,
+then turning to Elton she said, "What shall I do, Goddy?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, you might marry and leave him," suggested Elton helpfully.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's it.  I will marry and leave you all alone, Daddy."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Cannot we agree to share Miss Brent?" suggested the Duke, smiling at
+Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Isn't he a dear?" enquired Lady Peggy of Patricia.  "When other men
+propose to me, and quite a lot have," she added with almost childish
+simplicity, "I always mentally compare them with Daddy, and then of
+course I know I don't want them."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That is my one reason, Peggy, for not proposing," said Elton.  "I
+could never enter the lists with the Duke."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You're a pair of ridiculous children," laughed the Duke.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In response to a murmur from Patricia that she must be going, Lady
+Peggy insisted that she should first come upstairs and see her den.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The "den" was a room of orderly disorder, which seemed to possess the
+freshness and charm of its owner.  Lady Peggy looked at Patricia, a new
+respect in her eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You must be frightfully clever," she said with accustomed seriousness.
+"I wish I were like that.  You see I should be more of a companion to
+Daddy if I were."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think you are an ideal companion for him you are," said Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh! he's so wonderful," said Lady Peggy dreamily.  "You know I'm not
+always such a fool I appear," she added quite seriously, "and I do
+sometimes think of other things than frills and flounces and
+chocolates."  Then with a sudden change of mood she cried, "Wasn't it
+clever of me capturing you to-day?  As soon as you're alone Daddy will
+tell me what he thinks of you, and I shall feel so self-important."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As Patricia looked about the room, charmed with its dainty freshness,
+her eyes lighted upon a large metal tea-tray.  Lady Peggy following her
+gaze cried:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, the magic carpet!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The what?" enquired Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's the magic carpet.  Come, I'll show you," and seizing it she
+preceded Patricia to the top of the stairs.  "Now sit on it," she
+cried, "and toboggan down.  It's priceless."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But I couldn't."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes you could.  Everybody does," cried Lady Peggy.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Not quite knowing what she was doing Patricia found herself forced down
+upon the tea-tray, and the next thing she knew was she was speeding
+down the stairs at a terrific rate.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Just as she arrived in the hall with flushed cheeks and a flurry of
+skirts, the door of the library opened and the Duke and Elton came out.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia gathered herself together, and with flaming cheeks and
+downcast eyes stood like a child expecting rebuke, instead of which the
+Duke merely smiled.  Turning to Elton he remarked:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So Miss Brent has received her birth certificate."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As he spoke the butler with sedate decorum picked up the tray and
+carried it into his pantry as if it were the most ordinary thing in the
+world for guests to toboggan down the front staircase.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To ride on Peggy's 'magic carpet,' as she calls it," said the Duke,
+"is to be admitted to the household as a friend.  Come again soon," he
+added as he shook hands in parting.  "Any Sunday at lunch you are
+always sure to catch us.  We never give special invitations to the
+friends we want, do we, Peggy? and I want to have some more talks with
+you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As Patricia and Elton walked towards the Park he explained that Lady
+Peggy's tea-tray had figured in many little comedies.  Bishops, Cabinet
+Ministers, great generals and admirals had all descended the stairs in
+the way Patricia had.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In fact," he added, "when the Duke was in the Cabinet, it was the
+youngest and brightest collection of Ministers in the history of the
+country.  Every one of them was devoted to Peggy, and I think they
+would have made war or peace at her command."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When Patricia arrived at Galvin House, she was conscious of the world
+having changed since the morning.  All her gloom had been dispelled,
+the drawn look had passed from her face, and she felt that a heavy
+weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap18"></A>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XVIII
+</H3>
+
+<H4 ALIGN="center">
+THE AIR RAID
+</H4>
+
+<P>
+"Miss Brent, please get up.  There's an air raid."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mechanically Patricia sat up in bed and listened.  Outside a
+police-whistle was droning its raucous warning; within there was the
+sound of frightened whispers and the noise of the opening and shutting
+of doors.  Suddenly there was a shriek, followed by a low murmur of
+several voices.  The sound of the police-whistle continued, gradually
+dying away in the distance, and the noises within the house ceased.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia strained her ears to catch the first sound of the defensive
+guns.  She had no intention of getting up for a false alarm.  For some
+minutes there was silence, then came a slight murmur, half sob, half
+sigh, as if London were breathing heavily in her sleep, another
+followed, then half a dozen in quick succession growing louder with
+every report.  Suddenly came the scream of a "whiz-bang" and the
+thunder of a large gun.  Soon the orchestra was in full swing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Still Patricia listened.  She was fascinated.  Why did guns sound
+exactly as if large plank were being dropped?  Why did the report seem
+as if something were bouncing?  Suddenly a terrific report, a sound as
+if a giant plank had been dropped and had "bounced."  A neighbouring
+gun had given tongue, another followed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She jumped out of bed and proceeded to pull on her stockings.  There
+was a gentle tapping at her door, not the peremptory summons that had
+awakened her and which, by the voice that had accompanied it, she
+recognised as that of Mrs. Craske-Morton.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What is it?" she called out.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's me, mees."  Patricia could scarcely recognise in the terrified
+accents the voice of Gustave.  "It's a raid.  Oh! mees, please come
+down."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All right, Gustave.  I shall be down in a minute," replied Patricia,
+and she heard a flurry of retreating footsteps.  Gustave was descending
+to safety.  There was about him nothing of the Roman sentry.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia proceeded with her toilette, hastened, in spite of herself, by
+a tremendous crash which she recognised as a bomb.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At Galvin House "Raid Instructions" had been posted in each room.
+Guests were instructed to hasten with all possible speed downstairs to
+the basement-kitchen, where tea and coffee would be served and, if
+necessary, bandages and first-aid applied.  Miss Sikkum had made a
+superficial study of Red Cross work from a shilling manual but as,
+according to her own confession, she fainted at the sight of blood, no
+very great reliance was placed in her ministrations.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As Patricia entered the kitchen her first inclination was to laugh at
+the amazing variety, not only of toilettes, but of expressions that met
+her eyes.  Self-confident in the knowledge that she was fully dressed,
+she looked about her with interest.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, here you are, Miss Brent!" exclaimed Mrs. Craske-Morton, who was
+busily engaged in preparing the tea and coffee of the "Raid
+Instructions."  "Gustave would insist on going up to call you a second
+time.  We were&mdash;&mdash;"  Mrs. Craske-Morton broke off her sentence and
+dashed for the gas-stove, where the milk was boiling over.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, mees!"  Patricia turned to Gustave.  She bit her lip fiercely to
+restrain the laugh that bubbled up at the sight of the major-domo of
+Galvin House.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Above a pair of black trousers, tucked in the tops of unlaced boots,
+and from which the braces flapped aimlessly, was visible the upper part
+of a red flannel night-shirt.  The remainder was bestowed beneath the
+upper part of the trousers, giving to his figure a curiously knobbly
+appearance.  His face was leaden-coloured and his upstanding hair more
+erect than ever, whilst in his eyes was Fear.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He was trembling in every limb, and his jaw shook as he uttered his
+expression of relief at the sight of Patricia.  She smiled at him, then
+suddenly remembering that, in spite of his terror, he had voluntarily
+gone up to the top of the house to call her, she felt something
+strangely uncomfortable at the back of her throat.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Come along, Gustave!" she cried brightly.  "Let us help get the tea.
+I'm so thirsty."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+From that moment Gustave appeared to take himself in hand, and save for
+a violent start, at the more vigorous reports, seemed to have overcome
+his terror.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As Patricia proceeded to assist Mrs. Craske-Morton, a veritable heroine
+in a pink flannel wrapper, she took stock of her fellows.  Miss Wangle
+was engaged in prayer and tears, her wig was awry, her face drawn and
+yellow and her clothes the garb of advanced maidenhood.  On her feet
+were bed-socks, half thrust into felt slippers.  From beneath a black
+quilted dressing-gown peeped with virtuous pride the longcloth of a
+nightdress of Victorian severity.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe was in curl-papers and a faded blue kimono that
+allowed no suggestion to escape of the form beneath.  Miss Sikkum had
+seized a grey raincoat, above which a forest of curl papers looked
+strangely out of place.  Her fingers moved restlessly.  The two top
+buttons of the raincoat were missing, displaying a wealth of blue
+ribbon and openwork that none had suspected in her.  The lateness at
+which the ribbon and openwork began gave an interesting demonstration
+in feminine bone structure.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Sefton was splendid in a purple dressing-gown with orange cord and
+tassels, and red and white striped pyjamas beneath.  Mr. Sefton had
+chosen his raid-costume with elaborate care; but the suddenness of the
+alarm had not allowed of the arrangement of his hair, most of which
+hung down behind in a sandy cascade.  His manner was the forced heroic.
+He was smoking a cigarette with a too obvious nonchalance to deceive.
+The heroes of Mr. Sefton's imagination always lit cigarettes when
+facing death.  They were of the type that seizes a revolver when the
+ship is sinking and, with one foot placed negligently upon the capstan
+(Mr. Sefton had not the most remote idea of what a capstan was like)
+shouted, "Women and children first."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He walked about the kitchen with what he meant to be a smile upon his
+pale lips.  The cigarette he found a nuisance.  If he held it between
+his lips the smoke got in his eyes and made them stream with water; if,
+on the other hand, he held it between his fingers, it emphasized the
+shaking of his hand.  He compromised by letting it go out between his
+lips, arguing that the effect was the same.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Bolton had donned his fez and velvet smoking-jacket above creased
+white pyjama trousers that refused to meet the tops of his felt
+slippers.  Mr. Bolton continued to make "jokes," for the same reason
+that Mr. Sefton smoked a cigarette.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Cordal was negative in a big ulster with a hem of nightshirt
+beneath, leaving about eight inches of fleshless shin before his carpet
+slippers with the fur-tops were reached.  He sat gazing with unseeing
+eyes at the cook huddled up opposite, moaning as she held her heart
+with a fat, dirty hand.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Barnes, the victim of indecision, had leapt straight out of bed,
+gathered her clothes in her arms and had flown to safety.  She walked
+about the kitchen aimlessly, dropping and retrieving various garments,
+which she stuffed back again into the bundle she carried under her arm.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Craske-Morton was practical and courageous.  Her one thought was
+to prepare the promised refreshments.  Her staff, with the exception of
+Gustave, was useless, and she was grateful to Patricia for her
+assistance.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Outside pandemonium was raging, the noise of the barrage was
+diabolical, the "bouncing" of the heavy guns, the screams of the
+"whiz-bangs," the cackle of machine-guns from aeroplanes overhead; all
+seemed to tell of death and chaos.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Suddenly the puny sound of guns was drowned in one gigantic uproar.
+For a moment the place was plunged in darkness, then the electric light
+shuddered into being again.  The glass flew from the windows, the house
+rocked as if uncertain whether or no it should collapse.  Miss Wangle
+slipped on to her knees, her wig slipped on to her left ear.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, my God!" screamed the cook, as if to ensure exclusive rights to
+the Deity's attention.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Jenny, the housemaid, entirely unconscious that her nightdress was her
+sole garment, threw herself flat on her face.  Mrs. Craske-Morton, who
+was pouring out tea, let the teapot slip from her hand, smashing the
+cup and pouring the contents on to the table.  Gustave's knees refused
+their office and he sank down, grasping with both hands the edge of the
+table.  Mrs. Barnes dropped her clothes without troubling to retrieve
+them.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Suddenly there was a terrifying scream outside, then a motor-car drew
+up and the sound of men's voices was heard.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Still the guns thundered.  Patricia felt herself trembling.  For a
+moment a rush of blood seemed to suffocate her, then she found herself
+gazing at Miss Wangle, wondering whether she were praying to God or to
+the bishop.  She laughed in a voice unrecognisable to herself.  She
+looked about the kitchen.  Mr. Sefton had sunk down upon a chair, the
+cigarette still attached to his bloodless lower lip, his arms hanging
+limply down beside him.  Mr. Cordal was looking about him as if dazed,
+whilst Mr. Bolton was gazing at the glassless window-frames, as if
+expecting some apparition to appear.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's a bomb next door," gasped Mrs. Craske-Morton, then remembering
+her responsibilities, she caught Patricia's eye.  There was appeal in
+her glance.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Come along, Gustave," cried Patricia in a voice that she still found
+it difficult to recognise as her own.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Gustave, still on his knees, looked round and up at her with the eyes
+of a dumb animal that knows it is about to be tortured.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Gustave, get up and help with the tea," said Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A look of wonder crept into Gustave's eyes at the unaccustomed tone of
+Patricia's voice.  Slowly he dragged himself up, as if testing the
+capacity of each knee to support the weight of his body.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There's brandy there," said Mrs. Craske-Morton, pointing to a
+spirit-case she had brought down with her.  "Here's the key."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia took the key from her trembling hand, noting that her own was
+shaking violently.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mrs. Morton," she whispered, "you are splendid."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Morton smiled wanly, and Patricia felt that in that moment she had
+got to know the woman beneath the boarding-house keeper.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Shall we put it in their tea?" enquired Patricia, holding the decanter
+of brandy.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Craske-Morton nodded.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now, Gustave!" cried Patricia, "make everybody drink tea."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Gustave looked at his own hands, and then down at his knees as if in
+doubt as to whether he possessed the power of making them obey his
+wishes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Wangle was still on her knees, the cook was appealing to the
+Almighty with tiresome reiteration.  Jenny had developed hysterics, and
+was seated on the ground drumming with her heels upon the floor, Miss
+Sikkum gazing at her as if she had been some phenomenon from another
+world.  Mr. Bolton had valiantly pulled himself together and was
+endeavouring to persuade Mrs. Barnes to accept the various garments
+that he was picking up from the floor.  Her only acknowledgment of his
+gallantry was to gaze at him with dull, unseeing eyes, and to wag her
+head from side to side as if in repudiation of the ownership of what he
+was striving to get her to take from him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Sefton, valiant to the end, was with trembling fingers endeavouring
+to extract a cigarette from his case, apparently unconscious that one
+was still attached to his lip.  Mrs. Craske-Morton, Patricia and
+Gustave set themselves to work to pour tea and brandy down the throats
+of the others.  Mr. Sefton took his mechanically and put it to his
+lips, oblivious of the cigarette that still dangled there.  Finding an
+obstruction he put up his hand and pulled the cigarette away and with
+it a portion of the skin of his lip.  For the rest of the evening he
+was dabbing his mouth with his pocket-handkerchief.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Gustave had valiantly gone to the assistance of Jenny, and was
+endeavouring to pour tea through her closed teeth, with the result that
+it streamed down the neck of her nightdress.  The effect was the same,
+however.  As she felt the hot fluid on her chest she screamed, stopped
+drumming with her heels and looked about the kitchen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You've scalded me, you beast!" she cried, whereat Gustave, who was
+sitting on his heels, started and fell backwards, bringing Miss Sikkum
+down on top of him together with her cup of tea.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Craske-Morton was ministering to Miss Wangle and Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe.  Mr. Bolton and Mr. Cordal were both drinking neat
+brandy out of teacups.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Outside the guns still thundered and screamed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia went to the assistance of the cook; kneeling down she
+persuaded her to drink a cup of tea and brandy, which had the effect of
+silencing her appeals to the Almighty.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+For an hour the "guests" of Galvin House waited, exactly what for no
+one knew.  Then the noise of the firing began to die away in waves of
+sound.  There would be a few minutes' silence but for the distant
+rumble of guns, then suddenly a spurt of firing as if the guns were
+reluctant to forget their former anger.  Another period of silence
+would follow, then two or three isolated reports, like the snarl of
+dogs that had been dragged from their prey.  Finally quiet.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+For a further half-hour Galvin House waited, praying that the attack
+would not be renewed.  There were little spurts of conversation.  Mr.
+Sefton was slowly returning to the "foot on the Capstan" attitude, and
+actually had a cigarette alight.  Mr. Bolton and Mr. Cordal were
+speculating as to where the bomb had fallen.  Mrs. Craske-Morton was
+wondering if the Government would pay promptly for the damage to her
+glass.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Outside there were sounds of life and movement, cars were throbbing and
+passing to and fro, and men's voices could be heard.  Suddenly there
+was a loud peal of the street-door bell.  All looked at each other in
+consternation.  Gustave looked about him as if he had lost a puppy.
+Mrs. Craske-Morton looked at Gustave.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Gustave!" said Patricia, surprised at her own calm.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Gustave looked at her for a moment then, remembering his duties, went
+slowly to the door, listening the while as if expecting a further
+bombardment to break out.  With the exception of Miss Wangle and the
+cook, everybody was on the qui vive of expectation.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's the police," suggested Mrs. Craske-Morton, with conviction.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Or the ambulance," ventured Miss Sikkum in a trembling voice.
+"They're collecting the dead," she added optimistically.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+All eyes were riveted upon the kitchen door.  Steps were heard
+descending the stairs.  A moment later the door was thrown open and
+Gustave in a voice strangely unlike his own announced:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'Ees Lordship, madame."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bowen entered the kitchen and cast a swift look about him.  A light of
+relief passed over his face as he saw Patricia.  Some instinct that she
+could neither explain nor control caused her to go over to him, and
+before she knew what was taking place both her hands were in his.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Thank God!" he breathed.  "I was afraid it was this house.  I heard a
+bomb had dropped here.  Oh, my dear!  I've been in hell!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was something in his voice that thrilled her as she had never
+been thrilled before.  She looked up at him smiling, then suddenly with
+a great content she remembered that she had dressed herself with care.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bowen looked about him, and seeing Mrs. Craske-Morton, went over and
+shook hands.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She's a regular heroine, Peter," said Patricia, unconscious that she
+had used his name.  "She's been so splendid."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Craske-Morton smiled at Patricia, again her human smile.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh! go away, make him go away!"  It was Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe who
+spoke.  Her words had an electrifying effect upon everyone.  Miss
+Wangle sat up and made feverish endeavours to straighten her wig.
+Jenny, the housemaid, looked round for cover that was nowhere
+available.  The cook became aware of her lack of clothing.  Miss Sikkum
+strove to minimise the exhibition of feminine bone-structure.  Mrs.
+Barnes made a dive for Mr. Bolton, who was still holding various of her
+garments that he had retrieved.  These she seized from him as if he had
+been a pickpocket, and thrust them under her arm.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, please go away!" moaned the cook.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Come upstairs," said Patricia as she led the way out of the kitchen,
+to the relief of those whose reawakened modesty saw in Bowen's presence
+an outrage to decorum.  Switching on the light in the lounge, Patricia
+threw herself into a chair.  She was beginning to feel the reaction.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why did you come?" she asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I heard that a bomb had fallen in this street and&mdash;-well, I had to
+come.  I was never in such a funk in all my life."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How did you get round here; did you bring the car?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, I couldn't get the car out, I walked it," said Bowen briefly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That was very sweet of you," said Patricia gratefully, looking up at
+him in a way she had never looked at him before.  "And now I think you
+must be going.  We must all go to bed again."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, the 'All Clear' will sound soon, I think," replied Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They moved out into the hall.  For a moment they stood looking at each
+other, then Bowen took both her hands in his.  "I am so glad,
+Patricia," he said, gazing into her eyes, then suddenly he bent down
+and kissed her full on the lips.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dropping her hands and without another word he picked up his cap and
+let himself out, leaving Patricia standing gazing in front of her.  For
+a moment she stood, then turning as one in a dream, walked slowly
+upstairs to her room.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wonder why I let him do that?" she murmured as she stood in front of
+the mirror unpinning her hair.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap19"></A>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XIX
+</H3>
+
+<H4 ALIGN="center">
+GALVIN HOUSE AFTER THE RAID
+</H4>
+
+<P>
+The next day and for many days Galvin House abandoned itself to the
+raid.  The air was full of rumours of the appalling casualties
+resulting from the bomb that had been dropped in the next street.  No
+one knew anything, everyone had heard something.  The horrors confided
+to each other by the residents at Galvin House would have kept the
+Grand Guignol in realism for a generation.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Silent herself, Patricia watched with interest the ferment around her.
+With the exception of Mrs. Craske-Morton, all seemed to desire most of
+all to emphasize their own attitude of splendid intellectual calm
+during the raid.  They spoke scornfully of acquaintances who had flown
+from London because of the danger from bomb-dropping Gothas, they
+derided the Thames Valley aliens, they talked heroically and
+patriotically about "standing their bit of bombing."  In short Galvin
+House had become a harbour of heroism.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Craske-Morton, who had shown a calmness and courage that none of
+the others seemed to recognise, had nothing to say except about her
+broken glass; on this subject, however, she was eloquent.  Miss Wangle
+managed to convey to those who would listen that her own safety, and in
+fact that of Galvin House, was directly due to the intercession of the
+bishop, who when alive was particularly noted for the power and
+sustained eloquence of his prayers.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Bolton was frankly sceptical.  If the august prelate was out to
+save Galvin House, he suggested, it wasn't quite cricket to let them
+drop a bomb in the next street.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Everyone was extremely critical of everyone else.  Mr. Bolton said
+things about Mrs. Barnes and her clothes that made Miss Sikkum blush,
+particularly about the nose, where, with her, emotion always first
+manifested itself.  Mr. Sefton had permanently returned to the "women
+and children first" phase and, as two cigarettes were missing from his
+case, he was convinced that he had acquitted himself with that air of
+reckless bravado that endeared a man to women.  He talked pityingly and
+tolerantly of Gustave's obvious terror.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Bolton saw in the adventure material for jokes for months to come.
+He laboured at the subject with such misguided industry that Patricia
+felt she almost hated him.  Some of his allusions, particularly to the
+state of sartorial indecision in which the maids had sought cover, were
+"not quite nice," as Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe expressed it to Mrs.
+Hamilton, who returned from a visit the day following.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At breakfast everyone had talked, and in consequence everyone who
+worked was late for work; the general opinion being, what was the use
+of a raid unless you could be late for work?  Punctuality on such
+occasions being regarded as the waste of an opportunity, and a direct
+rebuke to Providence who had placed it there.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia did not take part in the general babel, beyond pointing out,
+when Gustave was coming under discussion, that it was he who had gone
+to the top of the house to call her.  She looked meaningly at Mr.
+Bolton and Mr. Sefton, who had the grace to appear a little ashamed of
+themselves.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When Patricia returned in the evening, she found Lady Tanagra awaiting
+her in the lounge, literally bombarded with different accounts of what
+had happened&mdash;all narrated in the best "eye-witness" manner of the
+alarmist press.  Following the precept of Charles Lamb, Galvin House
+had apparently striven to correct the bad impression made through
+lateness in beginning work by leaving early.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was obvious that Lady Tanagra had made herself extremely popular.
+Everyone was striving to gain her ear for his or her story of personal
+experiences.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ah, here you are!" cried Lady Tanagra as Patricia entered.  "I hear
+you behaved like a heroine last night."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Craske-Morton nodded her head with conviction.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mrs. Morton was the real heroine," said Patricia.  "She was splendid!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Craske-Morton flushed.  To be praised before so distinguished a
+caller was almost embarrassing, especially as no one had felt it
+necessary to comment upon her share in the evening's excitement.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Come up with me while I take off my things," said Patricia, as she
+moved towards the door.  She saw that any private talk between herself
+and Lady Tanagra would be impossible in the lounge with Galvin House in
+its present state of ferment.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In Patricia's room Lady Tanagra subsided into a chair with a sigh.  "I
+feel as if I were a celebrity arriving at New York," she laughed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They're rather excited," smiled Patricia, "but then we live such a
+humdrum life here&mdash;the expression is Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe's&mdash;and much
+should be forgiven them.  A book could be written on the boarding-house
+mind, I think.  It moves in a vicious circle.  If someone would only
+break out and give the poor dears something to talk about."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Didn't you do that?" enquired Lady Tanagra slily.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia smiled wearily.  "I take second place now to the raid.  Think
+of living here for the next few weeks.  They will think raid, read
+raid, talk raid and dream raid."  She shuddered.  "Thank heavens I'm
+off to-morrow."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Off to-morrow?" Lady Tanagra raised her eyes in interrogation.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, to Eastbourne for a fortnight's holiday as provided for in the
+arrangement existing between one Patricia Brent and Arthur Bonsor,
+Esquire, M.P.  It's part of the wages of the sin of secretaryship."
+Patricia sighed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I hope you'll enjoy&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Please don't be conventional," interrupted Patricia.  "I shall not
+enjoy it in the least.  Within twenty-four hours I shall long to be
+back again.  I shall get up in the morning and I shall go to bed at
+night.  In between I shall walk a bit, read a bit, get my nose red
+(thank heavens it doesn't peel) and become bored to extinction.  One
+thing I won't do, that is wear openwork frocks.  The sun shall not
+print cheap insertion kisses upon Patricia Brent."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You're quite sure that it is a holiday," Lady Tanagra looked up
+quizzically at Patricia as she stood gazing out of the window.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A holiday!" repeated Patricia, looking round.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It sounded just a little depressing," said Lady Tanagra.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It will be exactly what it sounds," Patricia retorted; "only
+depressing is not quite the right word, it's too polite.  You don't
+know what it is to be lonely, Tanagra, and live at Galvin House, and
+try to haul or push a politician into a rising posture.  It reminds me
+of Carlyle on the Dutch."  There was a note of fierce protest in her
+voice.  "You have all the things that I want, and I wonder I don't
+scratch your face and tear your hair out.  We are all primitive in our
+instincts really."  Then she laughed.  "Well!  I had to cry out to
+someone, and I shall feel better.  It's rather a beastly world for some
+of us, you know; but I suppose I ought to be spanked for being
+ungrateful."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you know why I've come?" enquired Lady Tanagra, thinking it wise to
+change the subject.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia shook her head.  "A more conceited person might have suggested
+that it was to see me," she said demurely.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To apologise for Peter," said Lady Tanagra.  "He disobeyed orders and
+I am very angry with him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia flushed at the memory of their good-night.  For a few seconds
+she stood silent, looking out of the window.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think it was rather sweet of him," she said without looking round.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Tanagra smiled slightly.  "Then I may forgive him, you think?" she
+enquired.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia turned and looked at her.  Lady Tanagra met the gaze
+innocently.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He wanted to write to you and send some flowers and chocolates; but I
+absolutely forbade it.  We almost had our first quarrel," she added
+mendaciously.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+For the space of a second Patricia hated Lady Tanagra.  She would have
+liked to turn and rend her for interfering in a matter that could not
+possibly be regarded as any concern of hers.  The feeling, however, was
+only momentary and, when Lady Tanagra rose to go, Patricia was as
+cordial as ever.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+From Galvin House Lady Tanagra drove to the Quadrant.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Peter!" she cried as she entered the room and threw herself into an
+easy chair, "if ever I again endeavour to divert true love from its
+normal&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How is she?"' interrupted Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now you've spoiled it," cried Lady Tanagra, "and it was&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Spoiled what?" demanded Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My beautiful phrase about true love and its normal channel, and I have
+been saying it over to myself all the way from Galvin House."  She
+looked reproachfully at her brother.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How's Patricia?" demanded Bowen eagerly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Fair to moderately fair, rain later, I should describe her," replied
+Lady Tanagra, helping herself to a cigarette which Bowen lighted.
+"She's going away."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Good heavens!  Where?" cried Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Eastbourne."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"When?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To-morrow."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Damn!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dear Peter," remarked Lady Tanagra lazily, "this primitive
+profanity ill becomes&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Please don't rot me, Tan," he pleaded.  "I've had a rotten time
+lately."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was helpless and hopeless pain in Bowen's voice that caused Lady
+Tanagra to spring up from her chair and go over to him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Carry on, old boy," she cried softly, as she caressed his coat-sleeve.
+"It's your only chance.  You're going to win."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I must see her!" blurted out Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If you do you'll spoil everything," announced Lady Tanagra with
+conviction.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But, last night," began Bowen and paused.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Last night, I think," said Lady Tanagra, "was a master-stroke.  She is
+touched; it's taken us forward at least a week."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But look here, Tan," said Bowen gloomily, "you told me to leave it all
+in your hands and you make me treat her rottenly, then you say&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That you know about as much of how to make a woman like Patricia fall
+in love with you as an ostrich does of geology," said Lady Tanagra
+calmly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But what will she think?" demanded Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"At present she is thinking that Eastbourne will be a nightmare of
+loneliness."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll run down and see her," announced Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If you do, Peter!"  There was a note of warning in Lady Tanagra's
+voice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All right," he conceded gloomily.  "I'll give you another week, and
+then I'll go my own way."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Peter, if you were smaller and I were bigger I think I should spank
+you," laughed Lady Tanagra.  Then with great seriousness she said, "I
+want you to marry her, and I'm going the only way to work to make her
+let you.  Do try and trust me, Peter."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bowen looked down at her with a smile, touched by the look in her eyes.
+For a moment his arm rested across her shoulders.  Then he pushed her
+towards the door.  "Clear out, Tan.  I'm not fit for a bear-pit
+to-night."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The Bowens were never demonstrative with one another.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+For half an hour Bowen sat smoking one cigarette after another until he
+was interrupted by the entrance of Peel, who, after a comprehensive
+glance round the room, proceeded to administer here and there those
+deft touches that emphasize a patient and orderly mind.  Bowen watched
+him as he moved about on the balls of his feet.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Have you ever been to Eastbourne, Peel?" enquired Bowen presently.
+Just why he asked the question he could not have said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Only once, my lord," replied Peel as he replaced the full ash-tray on
+the table by Bowen with a clean one.  There was a note in his voice
+implying that nothing would ever tempt him to go there again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You don't like it?" suggested Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I dislike it intensely, my lord," replied Peel as he refolded a copy
+of <I>The Times</I>.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It has unpleasant associations, my lord," was the reply.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bowen smiled.  After a moment's silence he continued:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Been sowing wild oats there?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, my lord, not exactly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, if it's not too private," said Bowen, "tell me what happened.
+At the moment I'm particularly interested in the place."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Peel gazed reproachfully at a copy of <I>The Sphere</I>, which had managed
+in some strange way to get its leaves dog-eared.  As he proceeded to
+smooth them out he continued:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It was when I was young, my lord.  I was engaged to be married.  I
+thought her a most excellent young woman, in every way suitable.  She
+went down to Eastbourne for a holiday."  He paused.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, there doesn't seem much wrong in that," said Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"From Eastbourne she wrote, saying that she had changed her mind,"
+proceeded Peel.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The devil she did!" exclaimed Bowen.  "And what did you do?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I went down to reason with her, my lord," said Peel.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Does one reason with a woman, Peel?" enquired Bowen with a smile.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I was very young then, my lord, not more than thirty-two."  Peel's
+tone was apologetic.  "I discovered that she had received an offer of
+marriage from another."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Hard luck!" murmured Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not at all, my lord, really," said Peel philosophically.  "I
+discovered that she had re-engaged herself to a butcher, a most
+offensive fellow.  His language when I expostulated with him was
+incredibly coarse, and I am sure he used marrow for his hair."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And what did you do?" enquired Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I had taken a return ticket, my lord.  I came back to London."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bowen laughed.  "I'm afraid you couldn't have been very badly hit,
+Peel, or you would not have been able to take it quite so
+philosophically."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have never allowed my private affairs to interfere with my
+professional duties, my lord," replied Peel unctuously.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+For five minutes Bowen smoked in silence.  "So you do not believe in
+marriage," he said at length.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I would not say that, my lord; but I do not think it suitable for a
+man of temperament such as myself.  I have known marriages quite
+successful where too much was not required of the contracting parties."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But don't you believe in love?" enquired Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Love, my lord, is like a disease.  If you are on the look out for it
+you catch it, if you ignore it, it does not trouble you.  I was once
+with a gentleman who was very nervous about microbes.  He would never
+eat anything that had not been cooked, and he had everything about him
+disinfected.  He even disinfected me," he added as if in proof of the
+extreme eccentricity of his late employer.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So I suppose you despise me for having fallen in love and
+contemplating marriage," said Bowen with a smile.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There are always exceptions, my lord," responded Peel tactfully.  "I
+have prepared the bath."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Peel," remarked Bowen as he rose and stretched himself, "disinfected
+or not disinfected, you are safe from the microbe of romance."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I hope so, my lord," responded Peel as he opened the door.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wonder if history will repeat itself," murmured Bowen as he walked
+through his bedroom into the bathroom.  "I, too, hate Eastbourne."
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap20"></A>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XX
+</H3>
+
+<H4 ALIGN="center">
+A RACE WITH SPINSTERHOOD
+</H4>
+
+<P>
+Before she had been at Eastbourne twenty-four hours Patricia was
+convinced that she had made a mistake in going there.  With no claims
+upon her time, the restlessness that had developed in London increased
+until it became almost unbearable.  The hotel at which she was staying
+was little more than a glorified boarding-house, full of "the most
+jungly of jungle-people," as she expressed it to herself.  Their
+well-meant and kindly efforts to engage her in their pursuits and
+pleasures she received with apathetic negation.  At length her
+fellow-guests, seeing that she was determined not to respond to their
+overtures, left her severely alone.  The men were the last to desist.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She came to dislike the pleasure-seekers about her and grew critical of
+everything she saw, the redness of the women's faces, the assumed
+youthfulness of the elderly men, the shapelessness of matrons who
+seemed to delight in bright open-work blouses and juvenile hats.  She
+remembered Elton's remark that Fashion uncovers a multitude of shins.
+The shins exposed at Eastbourne were she decided, sufficient to
+undermine one's belief in the early chapters of Genesis.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At one time she would have been amused at the types around her, and
+their various conceptions of "one crowded hour of glorious life."  As
+it was, everything seemed sordid and trivial.  Why should people lose
+all sense of dignity and proportion at a set period of the year?  It
+was, she decided, almost as bad as being a hare.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+All she wanted was to be alone, she told herself; yet as soon as she
+had discovered some secluded spot and had settled herself down to read,
+the old restlessness attacked her, and fight against it as she might,
+she was forced back again to the haunts of men.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+For the first few days she watched eagerly for letters.  None came.
+She would return to the hotel several times a day, look at the
+letter-rack, then, to hide her disappointment, make a pretence of
+having returned for some other purpose.  "Why had not Bowen written?"
+she asked herself, then a moment after she strove to convince herself
+that he had forgotten, or at least that she was only an episode in his
+life.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+His sudden change from eagerness to indifference caused her to flush
+with humiliation; yet he had gone to Galvin House during the raid to
+assure himself of her safety.  Why had he not written after what had
+occurred?  Perhaps Aunt Adelaide was right about men after all.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia wrote to Lady Tanagra, Mrs. Hamilton, Lady Peggy, Mr. Triggs,
+even to Miss Sikkum.  In due course answers arrived; but in only Miss
+Sikkum's letter was there any reference to Bowen, a gush of sentiment
+about "how happy you must be, dear Miss Brent, with Lord Bowen running
+down to see you every other day.  I know!" she added with maidenly
+prescience.  Patricia laughed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Triggs committed himself to nothing more than two and three-quarter
+pages, mainly about his daughter and "A. B.," Mr. Triggs was not at his
+best as a correspondent.  Lady Tanagra ran to four pages; but as her
+handwriting was large, five lines filling a page, her letter was
+disappointing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Peggy was the most productive.  In the course of twelve pages of
+spontaneity she told Patricia that the Duke and the Cabinet Minister
+had almost quarrelled about her, Patricia.  "Peter has been to lunch
+with us and Daddy has told him how lucky he is, and how wonderful you
+are.  If Peter is not very careful, I shall have you presented to me as
+a stepmother.  Wouldn't it be priceless!" she wrote.  "Oh!  What am I
+writing?"  She ended with the Duke's love, and an insistence that
+Patricia should lunch at Curzon Street the first Sunday after her
+return.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia found Lady Peggy's letter charming.  She was pleased to know
+that she had made a good impression and was admired&mdash;by the right
+people.  Twenty-four hours, however, found her once more thrown back
+into the trough of her own despondency.  Instinctively she began to
+count the days until this "dire compulsion of infertile days" should
+end.  She could not very well return to London and say that she was
+tired of holiday-making.  Galvin House would put its own construction
+upon her action and words, and whatever that construction might be, it
+was safe to assume that it would be an unpleasant one.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There were moments when a slight uplifting of the veil enabled her to
+see herself as she must appear to others.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Patricia!" she exclaimed one morning to her reflection in a rather
+dubious mirror.  "You're a cumberer of the earth and, furthermore,
+you've got a beastly temper," and she jabbed a pin through her hat and
+partly into her head.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As the days passed she found herself wondering what was the earliest
+day she could return.  If she made it the Friday night, would it arouse
+suspicion?  She decided that it would, and settled to leave Eastbourne
+on the Saturday afternoon.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As the train steamed out of the station she made a grimace in the
+direction of the town, just as an inoffensive and prematurely bald
+little man opposite looked up from his paper.  He gave Patricia one
+startled look through his gold-rimmed spectacles and, for the rest of
+the journey, buried himself behind his paper, fearful lest Patricia
+should "make another face at him," as he explained to his mother that
+evening.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She's come home in a nice temper!" was Miss Wangle's diagnosis of the
+mood in which Patricia reached Galvin House.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Gustave regarded her with anxious concern.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The first dinner drove her almost mad.  The raid, as a topic of
+conversation, was on the wane, although Mr. Bolton worked at it nobly,
+and Patricia found herself looked upon to supply the necessary material
+for the evening's amusement.  What had she done?  Where had she been?
+Had she bathed?  Were the dresses pretty?  How many times had Bowen
+been down?  Had she met any nice people?  Was it true that the costumes
+of the women were disgraceful?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At last, with a forced laugh, Patricia told them that she must have
+"notice" of such questions, and everybody had looked at her in
+surprise, until Mr. Bolton's laugh rang out, and he explained the
+parliamentary allusion.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When at last, under pretence of being tired, she was able to escape to
+her room, she felt that another five minutes would have turned her
+brain.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sunday dawned, and with it the old panorama of iterations unfolded
+itself: Mr. Bolton's velvet coat and fez, Mr. Cordal's carpet slippers
+with the fur tops, Mrs. Barnes' indecision, Mr. Sefton's genial and
+romantic optimism, Miss Sikkum's sumptuary excesses; all presented
+themselves in due sequence just as they had done for&mdash;"was it
+centuries?" Patricia asked herself.  To crown all it was a roast-pork
+Sunday, and the reek of onions preparing for the seasoning filled the
+house.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia felt that the fates were fighting against her.  In nerving
+herself for the usual human Sunday ordeal, she had forgotten the
+vegetable menace, in other words that it was "pork Sunday."  Mr. Bolton
+was always more than usually trying on Sundays; but reinforced by
+onions he was almost unbearable.  Patricia fled.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was the Sunday before August Bank Holiday.  Patricia shuddered at
+the remembrance.  It meant that people were away.  She did not pause to
+think that her world was at home, pursuing its various paths whereby to
+cultivate an appetite worthy of the pork that was even then sizzling in
+the Galvin House kitchen under the eagle eye of the cook, who prided
+herself on her "crackling," which Galvin House crunched with noisy
+gusto.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia sank down upon a chair far back under the trees opposite the
+Stanhope Gate.  Here she remained in a vague way watching the people,
+yet unconscious of their presence.  From time to time some snatch of
+meaningless conversation would reach her.  "You know Betty's such a
+sport?" one man said to another.  Patricia found herself wondering what
+Betty was like and what, to the speaker's mind, constituted being a
+sport.  Was Betty pretty?  She must be, Patricia decided; no one cared
+whether or no a plain girl were a sport.  She found herself wanting to
+know Betty.  What were the lives of all these people, these shadows,
+that were moving to and fro in front of her, each intent upon something
+that seemed of vital importance?  Were they&mdash;&mdash;?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I doubt if Cassandra could have looked more gloomily prophetic."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She turned with a start and saw Geoffrey Elton smiling down upon her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Did I look as bad as that?" she enquired, as he took a seat beside her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You looked as if you were gratuitously settling the destinies of the
+world," he replied.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In a way I suppose I was," she said musingly.  "You see they all mean
+something," indicating the paraders with a nod of her head, "tragedy,
+comedy, farce, sometimes all three.  If you only stop to think about
+life, it all seems so hopeless.  I feel sometimes that I could run away
+from it all."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That in the Middle Ages would have been diagnosed as the monastic
+spirit," said Elton.  "It arose, and no doubt continues in most cases
+to arise from a sluggish liver."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How dreadful!" laughed Patricia.  "The inference is obvious."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The world's greatest achievements and greatest tragedies could no
+doubt be traced directly to rebellious livers: Waterloo and 'Hamlet'
+are instances."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are you serious?" enquired Patricia.  She was never quite certain of
+Elton.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In a way I suppose I am," he replied.  "If I were a pathologist I
+should write a book upon <I>The Influence of Disease upon the Destinies
+of the World</I>.  The supreme monarch is the microbe.  The Germans have
+shown that they recognise this."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ugh!"  Patricia shuddered.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of course you have to make some personal sacrifice in the matter of
+self-respect first," continued Elton, "but after that the rest becomes
+easy."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose that is what a German victory would mean," said Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes; we should give up lead and nickel and T.N.T., and invent germ
+distributors.  Essen would become a great centre of germ-culture,
+and&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh! please let us talk about something else," cried Patricia.  "It's
+horrible!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well!" said Elton with a smile, "shall we continue our talk over
+lunch, if you have no engagement?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Lady Peggy asked me&mdash;&mdash;" began Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They're away in Somerset," said Elton, "so now I claim you as my
+victim.  It is your destiny to save me from my own thoughts."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And yours to save me from roast pork and apple sauce," said Patricia,
+rising.  As they walked towards Hyde Park Corner she explained the
+Galvin House cuisine.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They lunched at the Ritz and, to her surprise Patricia found herself
+eating with enjoyment, a thing she had not done for weeks past.  She
+decided that it must be a revulsion of feeling after the menace of
+roast pork.  Elton was a good talker, with a large experience of life
+and a considerable fund of general information.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I should like to travel," said Patricia as she sipped her coffee in
+the lounge.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why?"  Elton held a match to her cigarette.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh!  I suppose because it is enjoyable," replied Patricia; "besides,
+it educates," she added.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That is too conventional to be worthy of you," said Elton.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How?" queried Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Most of the dull people I know ascribe their dullness to lack of
+opportunities for travel.  They seem to think that a voyage round the
+world will make brilliant talkers of the toughest bores."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Am I as tedious as that?" enquired Patricia, looking up with a smile.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Your friend, Mr. Triggs, for instance," continued Elton, passing over
+Patricia's remark.  "He has not travelled, and he is always
+interesting.  Why?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose because he is Mr. Triggs," said Patricia half to herself.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Exactly," said Elton.  "If you were really yourself you would not
+be&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So dull," broke in Patricia with a laugh.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So lonely," continued Elton, ignoring the interruption.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why do you say that?" demanded Patricia.  "It's not exactly a
+compliment."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Intellectual loneliness may be the lot of the greatest social success."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But why do you think I am lonely?" persisted Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Let us take Mr. Triggs as an illustration.  He is direct, unversed in
+diplomacy, golden-hearted, with a great capacity for friendship and
+sentiment.  When he is hurt he shows it as plainly as a child,
+therefore we none of us hurt him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He's a dear!" murmured Patricia half to herself.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If he were in love he would never permit pride to disguise it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia glanced up at Elton: but he was engaged in examining the end
+of his cigarette.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He would credit the other person with the same sincerity as himself,"
+continued Elton.  "The biggest rogue respects an honest man, that is
+why we, who are always trying to disguise our emotions, admire Mr.
+Triggs, who would just as soon wear a red beard and false eyebrows as
+seek to convey a false impression."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia found herself wondering why Elton had selected this topic.
+She was conscious that it was not due to chance.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is it worth it?"  Elton's remark, half command, half question, seemed
+to stab through her thoughts.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She looked up at him, her eyes a little widened with surprise.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is what worth what?" she enquired.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I was just wondering," said Elton, "if the Triggses are not very wise
+in eating onions and not bothering about what the world will think."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Eating onions!" cried Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My medical board is on Tuesday up North," said Elton, "and I shall
+hope to get back to France.  You see things in a truer perspective when
+you're leaving town under such conditions."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia was silent for some time.  Elton's remarks sometimes wanted
+thinking out.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You think we should take happiness where we can find it?" she asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well!  I think we are too much inclined to render unto Cæsar the
+things which are God's," he replied gravely.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you appreciate that you are talking in parables?" said Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That is because I do not possess Mr. Triggs's golden gift of
+directness."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Suddenly Patricia glanced at her watch.  "Why, it's five minutes to
+three!" she cried.  "I had no idea it was so late."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I promised to run round to say good-bye to Peter at three," Elton
+remarked casually, as he passed through the lounge.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Good-bye!" cried Patricia in surprise.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He is throwing up his staff appointment, and has applied to rejoin his
+regiment in France."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+For a moment Patricia stopped dead, then with a great effort she passed
+through the revolving door into the sunlight.  Her knees seemed
+strangely shaky, and she felt thankful when she saw the porter hail a
+taxi.  Elton handed her in and closed the door.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Galvin House?" he interrogated.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"When does he go?" asked Patricia in a voice that she could not keep
+even in tone.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"As soon as the War Office approves," said Elton.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Does Lady Tanagra know?" she asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, Peter will not tell her until everything is settled," he replied.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As the taxi sped westwards Patricia was conscious that some strange
+change had come over her.  She had the feeling that follows a long bout
+of weeping.  Peter was going away!  Suddenly everything was changed!
+Everything was explained!  She must see him!  Prevent him from going
+back to France!  He was going because of her!  He would be killed and
+it would be her fault!
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Arrived at Galvin House she went straight to her room.  For two hours
+she lay on her bed, her mind in a turmoil, her head feeling as if it
+were being compressed into a mould too small for it.  No matter how she
+strove to control them, her thoughts inevitably returned to the phrase,
+"Peter is going to France."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Unknown to herself, she was fighting a great fight with her pride.  She
+must see him, but how?  If she telephoned it would be an unconditional
+surrender.  She could never respect herself again.  "When you are in
+love you take pleasure in trampling your pride underfoot."  The phrase
+persisted in obtruding itself.  Where had she heard it?  What was
+pride? she asked herself.  One might be very lonely with pride as one's
+sole companion.  What would Mr. Triggs say?  She could see his forehead
+corrugated with trying to understand what pride had to do with love.
+Even Elton, self-restrained, almost self-sufficient, admitted that Mr.
+Triggs was right.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+If she let Peter go?  A year hence, a month perhaps, she might have
+lost him.  Of what use would her pride be then?  She had not known
+before; but now she knew how much Peter meant to her.  Since he had
+come into her life everything had changed, and she had grown
+discontented with the things that, hitherto, she had tacitly accepted
+as her portion.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You're fretting, me dear!"  Mr. Triggs's remark came back to her.  She
+recalled how indignant she had been.  Why?  Because it was true.  She
+had been cross.  She remembered the old man's anxiety lest he had
+offended her.  She almost smiled as she recalled his clumsy effort to
+explain away his remark.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She had heard someone knock gently at her door, once, twice, three
+times.  She made no response.  Then Gustave's voice whispered, "Tea is
+served in the looaunge, mees."  She heard him creep away with clumsy
+stealth.  There was a sweet-natured creature.  He could never disguise
+an emotion.  He had come upstairs during the raid, though in obvious
+terror, in order to save her.  Mr. Triggs, Gustave, Elton, all were
+against her.  She knew that in some subtle way they were working to
+fight <I>her</I> pride.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+For some time longer she lay, then suddenly she sprang up.  First she
+bathed her face, then undid her hair, finally she changed her frock and
+powdered her nose.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Hurry up, Patricia! or you may think better of it," she cried to her
+reflection in the glass.  "This is a race with spinsterhood."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Going downstairs quietly she went to the telephone.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Gerrard 60000," she called, conscious that both her voice and her
+knees were unsteady.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+After what seemed an age there came the reply, "Quadrant Hotel."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is Lord Peter Bowen in?" she enquired.  "Thank you," she added in
+response to the clerk's promise to enquire.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Her hand was shaking.  She almost dropped the receiver.  He must be
+out, she told herself, after what seemed to her an age of waiting.  If
+he were in they would have found him.  Perhaps he had already started
+for&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who is that?"  It was Bowen's voice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia felt she could sing.  So he had not gone!  Would her knees
+play her false and cheat her?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's&mdash;it's me," she said, regardless of grammar.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's delightful; but who is me?" came the response.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+No wonder woman liked him if he spoke like that to them, she decided.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Suddenly she realised that even she herself could not recognise as her
+own the voice with which she was speaking.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Patricia," she said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Patricia!"  There was astonishment, almost incredulity in his voice.
+So Elton had said nothing.  "Where are you?  Can I see you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia felt her cheeks burn at the eagerness of his tone.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm&mdash;I'm going out.  I&mdash;I'll call for you if you like," she stammered.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I say, how ripping of you.  Come in a taxi or shall I come and fetch
+you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, I&mdash;I'm coming now, I'm&mdash;&mdash;" then she put up the receiver.  What
+was she going to do or say?  For a moment she swayed.  Was she going to
+faint?  A momentary deadly sickness seemed to overcome her.  She fought
+it back fiercely.  She must get to the Quadrant.  "I shall have to be a
+sort of reincarnation of Mrs. Triggs, I think," she murmured as she
+staggered past the astonished Gustave, who was just coming from the
+lounge, and out of the front door, where she secured a taxi.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap21"></A>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XXI
+</H3>
+
+<H4 ALIGN="center">
+THE GREATEST INDISCRETION
+</H4>
+
+<BR>
+
+<H4 ALIGN="center">
+I
+</H4>
+
+<P>
+In the vestibule of the Quadrant stood Peel, looking a veritable
+colossus of negation.  As Patricia approached he bowed and led the way
+to the lift.  As it slid upwards Patricia wondered if Peel could hear
+the thumping of her heart, and if so, what he thought of it.  She
+followed him along the carpeted corridor conscious of a mad desire to
+turn and fly.  What would Peel do? she wondered.  Possibly in the
+madness of the moment his mantle of discretion might fall from him, and
+he would dash after her.  What a sensation for the Quadrant!  A girl
+tearing along as if for her life pursued by a gentleman's servant.  It
+would look just like the poster of "Charley's Aunt."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Peel opened the door of Bowen's sitting-room, and Patricia entered with
+the smile still on her lips that the thought of "Charley's Aunt" had
+aroused.  Something seemed to spring towards her from inside the room,
+and she found herself caught in a pair of arms and kissed.  She
+remembered wondering if Peel were behind, or if he had closed the door,
+then she abandoned herself to Bowen's embrace.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Everything seemed somehow changed.  It was as if someone had suddenly
+shouldered her responsibilities, and she would never have to think
+again for herself.  Her lips, her eyes, her hair, were kissed in turn.
+She was being crushed; yet she was conscious only of a feeling of
+complete content.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Suddenly the realisation of what was happening dawned upon her, and she
+strove to free herself.  With all her force she pushed Bowen from her.
+He released her.  She stood back looking at him with crimson cheeks and
+unseeing eyes.  She was conscious that something unusual was happening
+to her, something in which she appeared to have no voice.  Perhaps it
+was all a dream.  She swayed a little.  The same sensation she had
+fought back at the telephone was overcoming her.  Was she going to
+faint?  It would be ridiculous to faint in Bowen's rooms.  Why did
+people faint?  Was it really, as Aunt Adelaide had told her, because
+the heart missed a beat?  One beat&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She felt Bowen's arm round her, she seemed to sway towards a chair.
+Was the chair really moving away from her?  Then the mist seemed to
+clear.  Someone was kneeling beside her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bowen gazed at her anxiously.  Her face was now colourless, and her
+eyes closed wearily.  She sighed as a tired child sighs before falling
+asleep.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Patricia! what is the matter?" cried Bowen In alarm.  "You haven't
+fainted, have you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She was conscious of the absurdity of the question.  She opened her
+eyes with a curious fluttering movement of the lids, as if they were
+uncertain how long they could remain unclosed.  A slow, tired smile
+played across her face, like a passing shaft of sunshine, then the lids
+closed again and the life seemed to go out of her body.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bowen gently withdrew his arm and, rising, strode across to a table on
+which was a decanter of whisky and syphon of soda.  With unsteady
+hands, he poured whisky and soda into a glass and, returning to
+Patricia, he passed his arm gently behind her head, placing the glass
+against her lips.  She drank a little and then, with a shudder, turned
+her head aside.  A moment later her eyes opened again.  She looked
+round the room, then fixed her gaze on Bowen as if trying to explain to
+herself his presence.  Gradually the colour returned to her cheeks and
+she sighed deeply.  She shook her head as Bowen put the glass against
+her lips.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I nearly fainted," she whispered, sighing again.  "I've never done
+such a thing."  Then after a pause she added, "I wonder what has
+happened.  My head feels so funny."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's all my fault," said Bowen penitently.  "I've waited so long, and
+I seemed to go mad.  You will forgive me, dearest, won't you?" his
+voice was full of concern.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia smiled.  "Have I been here long?" she asked.  "It seems ages
+since I came."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No; only about five minutes.  Oh, Patricia! you won't do it again,
+will you?"  Bowen drew her nearer to him and upset the glass containing
+the remains of the whisky and soda that he had placed on the floor
+beside him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I didn't quite faint, really," she said earnestly, as if defending
+herself from a reproach.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I mean throw me over," explained Bowen.  "It's been hell!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Please go and sit down," she said, moving restlessly.  "I'm all right
+now.  I&mdash;I want to talk and I can't talk like this."  Again she smiled,
+and Bowen lifted her hand and kissed it gently.  Rising he drew a chair
+near her and sat down.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You see all this comes of trying to be a Mrs. Triggs," she said
+regretfully.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mrs. Triggs!"  Bowen looked at her anxiously.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Slowly and a little wearily Patricia explained her conversation with
+Elton.  "Didn't he tell you he had seen me?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," replied Bowen, relieved at the explanation; "Godfrey is a perfect
+dome of silence on occasion."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why did you suddenly leave me all alone, Peter?" Patricia enquired
+presently.  "I couldn't understand.  It hurt me terribly.  I didn't
+realise"&mdash;she paused&mdash;"oh, everything, until I heard you were going
+away.  Oh, my dear!" she cried in a low voice, "be gentle with me.  I'm
+all bruises."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bowen bent across to her.  "I'm a brute," he said, "but&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She shook her head.  "Not that sort," she said.  "It's my pride I've
+bruised.  I seem to have turned everything upside down.  You'll have to
+be very gentle with me at first, please."  She looked up at him with a
+flicker of a smile.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not only at first, dear, but always," said Bowen gently as he rose and
+seated himself beside her.  "Patricia, when did you&mdash;care?" he blurted
+out the last word hurriedly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know," she replied dreamily.  "You see," she continued after a
+pause, "I've not been like other girls.  Do you know, Peter," she
+looked up at him shyly, "you're the first man who has ever kissed me,
+except my father.  Isn't it absurd?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's nothing of the sort," Bowen declared, tilting up her chin and
+gazing down into her eyes.  "But you haven't answered my question."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well!" continued Patricia, speaking slowly, "when you sent me flowers
+and messengers and telegraph-boys and things I was angry, and then when
+you didn't I&mdash;&mdash;" she paused.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Wanted them," he suggested.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"U-m-m-m!" she nodded her head.  "I suppose so," she conceded.  "But,"
+she added with a sudden change of mood, "I shall always be dreadfully
+afraid of Peel.  He seems so perfect."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bowen laughed.  "I'll try and balance matters," he said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But you haven't told me," said Patricia, "why you left me alone all at
+once.  Why did you?"  She looked up enquiringly at him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+During the next half an hour Patricia slowly drew from Bowen the whole
+story of the plot engineered by Lady Tanagra.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But why," questioned Patricia, "were you going away if you knew
+that&mdash;that everything would come all right?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I had given up hope, and I couldn't break my promise to Tan.  I
+convinced myself that you didn't care."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia held out her hand with a smile.  Bowen bent and kissed it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wonder what you are thinking of me?"  She looked up at him
+anxiously.  "I'm very much at your mercy now, Peter, aren't I?  You
+won't let me ever regret it, will you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you regret it?" he whispered, bending towards her, conscious of the
+fragrance of her hair.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's such an unconditional surrender," she complained.  "All my pride
+is bruised and trampled underfoot.  You have me at such a disadvantage."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So long as I've got you I don't care," he laughed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Peter," said Patricia after a few minutes of silence, "I want you to
+ring up Tanagra and Godfrey Elton and ask them to dine here this
+evening.  They must put off any other engagement.  Tell them I say so."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But can't we&mdash;&mdash;?" began Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There, you are making me regret already," she said with a flash of her
+old vivacity.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bowen flew to the telephone.  By a lucky chance Elton was calling at
+Grosvenor Square, and Bowen was able to get them both with one call.
+He was a little disappointed, however, at not having Patricia to
+himself that evening.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"When shall we get married?" Bowen asked eagerly, as Patricia rose and
+announced that she must go and repair damages to her face and garments.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I will tell you after dinner," she said as she walked towards the door.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<H4 ALIGN="center">
+II
+</H4>
+
+<P>
+"It is only the impecunious who are constrained to be modest," remarked
+Elton as the four sat smoking in Bowen's room after dinner.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is that an apology, or merely a statement of fact?" asked Lady Tanagra.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think," remarked Patricia quietly, "that it is an apology."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Elton looked across at her with one of those quick movements of his
+eyes that showed how alert his mind was, in spite of the languid ease
+of his manner.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And now," continued Patricia, "I have something very important to say
+to you all."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh!" groaned Lady Tanagra, "spare me from the self-importance of the
+newly-engaged girl."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It has come to my knowledge, Tanagra," proceeded Patricia, "that you
+and Mr. Elton did deliberately and wittingly conspire together against
+my peace of mind and happiness.  There!" she added, "that's almost
+legal in its ambiguity, isn't it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Tanagra and Elton exchanged glances.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What do you mean?" demanded Lady Tanagra gaily.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia explained that she had extracted from Bowen the whole story.
+Lady Tanagra looked reproachfully at her brother.  Then turning to
+Patricia she said with unwonted seriousness:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I saw that was the only way to&mdash;to&mdash;well get you for a sister-in-law
+and," she paused a moment uncertainly.  "I knew you were the only girl
+for that silly old thing there, who was blundering up the whole
+business."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Your mania for interfering in other people's affairs will be your
+ruin, Tanagra," said Patricia as she turned to Elton, her look clearly
+enquiring if he had any excuse to offer.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The old Garden of Eden answer," he said.  "A woman tempted me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then we will apply the old Garden of Eden punishment," announced
+Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Elton, who was the first to grasp her meaning, looked anxiously at Lady
+Tanagra, who with knitted brows was endeavouring to penetrate to
+Patricia's meaning.  Bowen was obviously at sea.  Suddenly Lady
+Tanagra's face flamed and her eyes dropped.  Elton stroked the back of
+his head, a habit he had when preoccupied&mdash;he was never nervous.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You two," continued Patricia, now thoroughly enjoying herself, "have
+precipitated yourselves into my most private affairs, and in return I
+am going to take a hand in yours.  Peter has asked me when I will marry
+him.  I said I would tell him after dinner this evening."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bowen looked across at her eagerly, Elton lit another cigarette, Lady
+Tanagra toyed nervously with her amber cigarette-holder.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I will marry Peter," announced Patricia, "when you, Tanagra," she
+paused slightly, "marry Godfrey Elton."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Tanagra looked up with a startled cry.  Her eyes were wide with
+something that seemed almost fear, then without warning she turned and
+buried her head in a cushion and burst into uncontrollable sobbing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bowen started up.  With a swift movement Patricia went over to his side
+and, before he knew what was happening, he was in the corridor
+stuttering his astonishment to Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+For an hour the two sat in the lounge below, talking and listening to
+the band.  Patricia explained to Bowen how from the first she had known
+that Elton and Tanagra were in love.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But we've known him all our lives!" expostulated Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The very thing that blinded you all to a most obvious fact."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But why didn't he&mdash;&mdash;?" began Bowen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Because of her money," explained Patricia.  "Anyhow," she continued
+gaily, "I had lost my own tail, and I wasn't going to see Tanagra
+wagging hers before my eyes.  Now let's go up and see what has
+happened."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Just as Bowen's hand was on the handle of the sitting-room door,
+Patricia cried out that she had dropped a ring.  When they entered the
+room Elton and Lady Tanagra were standing facing the door.  One glance
+at their faces, told Patricia all she wanted to know.  Without a word
+Elton came forward and bending low, kissed her hand.  There was
+something so touching in his act of deference that Patricia felt her
+throat contract.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She went across to Lady Tanagra and put her arm round her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You darling!" whispered Lady Tanagra.  "How clever of you to know."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I knew the first time I saw you together," whispered Patricia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Tanagra hugged her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And now we must all run round to Grosvenor Square.  Poor Mother&mdash;what
+a surprise for her!"
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<H4 ALIGN="center">
+III
+</H4>
+
+<P>
+Elton's medical board took a more serious view of his state of health
+than was anticipated, and he was temporarily given an appointment in
+the Intelligence Department.  Bowen's application to be allowed to
+rejoin his regiment was refused, and thus the way was cleared for the
+double wedding that took place at St. Margaret's, Westminster.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Patricia was given away by the Duke of Gayton.  Lady Peggy declared
+that it would rank as the most heroic act he had ever performed.  Mr.
+Triggs reached the highest sartorial pinnacle of his career in a light
+grey, almost white frock-coated suit with a high hat to match, a white
+waistcoat, and a white satin tie.  As Elton expressed it, he looked
+like a musical-comedy conception of a bookmaker turned philanthropist.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Galvin House was there in force.  Even Gustave obtained an hour off
+and, with a large white rose in his button-hole, beamed on everyone and
+everything with the utmost impartiality.  Miss Brent, like Achilles,
+sulked in her tent.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The only two men I ever loved," wailed Lady Peggy to a friend, "and
+both gone at one shot."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She's a lucky girl," said an old dowager, "and only a secretary."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Some girl.  What!" muttered an embryo field-marshal to a one-pip
+strategist in the uniform of the Irish Guards, who concurred with an
+emphatic, "Lucky devil!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At Galvin House for the rest of the chapter they talked, dreamed and
+lived the Bowen-Brent marriage.  It was the one ineffaceable sunspot in
+the greyness of their lives.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<HR>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+
+<A NAME="chap22"></A>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+HERBERT JENKINS'
+</H3>
+
+<H2 ALIGN="center">
+SHILLING LIBRARY
+</H2>
+
+<BR>
+
+<PRE STYLE="margin-left: 10%">
+BINDLE                                 HERBERT JENKINS
+WITHOUT MERCY                          JOHN GOODWIN
+PICCADILLY JIM                         P. G. WODEHOUSE
+THE FRINGE OF THE DESERT               R. S. MACNAMARA
+THE CHARING CROSS MYSTERY              J. S. FLETCHER
+THE MAN WITH THE CLUBFOOT              VALENTINE WILLIAMS
+ALF'S BUTTON                           W. A. DARLINGTON
+HIDDEN FIRES                           MRS. PATRICK MACGILL
+THE LUCK OF THE VAILS                  E. F. BENSON
+THE WHISKERED FOOTMAN                  EDGAR JEPSON
+THE DIAMOND CROSS MYSTERY              CHESTER K. S. STEELE
+THE MYSTERY OF THE SCENTED DEATH       ROY VICKERS
+ANTHONY TRENT, MASTER CRIMINAL         WYNDHAM MARTYN
+THE MARKENMORE MYSTERY                 J. S. FLETCHER
+A DAUGHTER IN REVOLT                   JOHN GOODWIN
+THE BARTERED BRIDE                     MRS. PATRICK MACGILL
+A DAMSEL IN DISTRESS                   P. G. WODEHOUSE
+HIS OTHER WIFE                         ROY VICKERS
+THE COMPULSORY WIFE                    JOHN GLYDER
+THE WINNING CLUE                       JAMES HAY, Jun.
+PATRICIA BRENT, SPINSTER               HERBERT JENKINS
+THE SECRET OF THE SILVER CAR           WYNDHAM MARTYN
+ISAACS                                 JOSEPH GEE
+PLAYING WITH SOULS                     COUNTESS DE CHAMBRUN
+THE MYSTERIOUS CHINAMAN                J. S. FLETCHER
+THE FLAME OF LIFE                      MRS. PATRICK MACGILL
+BLACKMAIL                              JOHN GOODWIN
+THAT RED-HEADED GIRL                   LOUISE HEILGERS
+MOLESKIN JOE                           PATRICK MACGILL
+SALLY ON THE ROCKS                     WINIFRED BOGGS
+THE UNLIGHTED HOUSE                    JAMES HAY, Jun.
+THE EDGE OF THE WORLD                  EDITH BLINN
+</PRE>
+
+<BR><BR>
+
+<H4 ALIGN="center">
+3 YORK STREET &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;  ST. JAMES'S &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;  LONDON S.W.1
+</H4>
+
+<BR><BR><BR><BR>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Patricia Brent, Spinster, by Herbert Jenkins
+
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diff --git a/33353.txt b/33353.txt
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index 0000000..dad2de0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/33353.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,9700 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Patricia Brent, Spinster, by Herbert Jenkins
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Patricia Brent, Spinster
+
+Author: Herbert Jenkins
+
+Release Date: August 5, 2010 [EBook #33353]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PATRICIA BRENT, SPINSTER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Al Haines
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+PATRICIA BRENT, SPINSTER
+
+
+
+BY
+
+HERBERT JENKINS
+
+
+
+
+HERBERT JENKINS LIMITED
+
+3 YORK STREET, LONDON S.W.1
+
+1918
+
+
+
+
+  A
+  HERBERT
+  JENKINS'
+  BOOK
+
+
+_Fifteenth printing completing 153,658 copies_
+
+
+MADE AND PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY
+
+PURNELL AND SONS, PAULTON (SOMERSET) AND LONDON
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+CHAPTER
+
+     I.  PATRICIA'S INDISCRETION
+    II.  THE BONSOR-TRIGGS' MENAGE
+   III.  THE ADVENTURE AT THE QUADRANT GRILL-ROOM
+    IV.  THE MADNESS OF LORD PETER BOWEN
+     V.  PATRICIA'S REVENGE
+    VI.  THE INTERVENTION OF AUNT ADELAIDE
+   VII.  LORD PETER PROMISES A SOLUTION
+  VIII.  LORD PETER'S S.O.S.
+    IX.  LADY TANAGRA TAKES A HAND
+     X.  MISS BRENT'S STRATEGY
+    XI.  THE DEFECTION OF MR. TRIGGS
+   XII.  A BOMBSHELL
+  XIII.  A TACTICAL BLUNDER
+   XIV.  GALVIN HOUSE MEETS A LORD
+    XV.  MR. TRIGGS TAKES TEA IN KENSINGTON GARDENS
+   XVI.  PATRICIA'S INCONSTANCY
+  XVII.  LADY PEGGY MAKES A FRIEND
+ XVIII.  THE AIR RAID
+   XIX.  GALVIN HOUSE AFTER THE RAID
+    XX.  A RACE WITH SPINSTERHOOD
+   XXI.  THE GREATEST INDISCRETION
+
+
+
+
+WHAT THIS STORY IS ABOUT
+
+Patricia Brent is a "paying guest" at the Galvin House Residential
+Hotel.  One day she overhears two of her fellow "guests" pitying her
+because she "never has a nice young man to take her out."
+
+In a thoughtless moment of anger she announced that on the following
+night she is dining at the Quadrant with her fiance.  When in due
+course she enters the grill-room, she finds some of Galvin Houseites
+there to watch her.  Rendered reckless by the thought of the
+humiliation of being found out, she goes up to a young staff-officer,
+and asks him to help her by "playing up."
+
+This is how she meets Lt.-Col. Lord Peter Bowen, D.S.O.  The story is a
+comedy concerned with the complications that ensue from Patricia's
+thoughtless act.
+
+
+
+
+PATRICIA BRENT, SPINSTER
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+PATRICIA'S INDISCRETION
+
+"She never has anyone to take her out, and goes nowhere, and yet she
+can't be more than twenty-seven, and really she's not bad-looking."
+
+"It's not looks that attract men," there was a note of finality in the
+voice; "it's something else."  The speaker snapped off her words in a
+tone that marked extreme disapproval.
+
+"What else?" enquired the other voice.
+
+"Oh, it's--well, it's something not quite nice," replied the other
+voice darkly, "the French call it being _tres femme_.  However, she
+hasn't got it."
+
+"Well, I feel very sorry for her and her loneliness.  I am sure she
+would be much happier if she had a nice young man of her own class to
+take her about."
+
+Patricia Brent listened with flaming cheeks.  She felt as if someone
+had struck her.  She recognised herself as the object of the speakers'
+comments.  She could not laugh at the words, because they were true.
+She _was_ lonely, she had no men friends to take her about, and yet,
+and yet----
+
+"Twenty-seven," she muttered indignantly, "and I was only twenty-four
+last November."
+
+She identified the two speakers as Miss Elizabeth Wangle and Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe.
+
+Miss Wangle was the great-niece of a bishop, and to have a bishop in
+heaven is a great social asset on earth.  This ecclesiastical
+distinction seemed to give her the right of leadership at the Galvin
+House Residential Hotel.  Whenever a new boarder arrived, the
+unfortunate bishop was disinterred and brandished before his eyes.
+
+One facetious young man in the "commercial line" had dubbed her "the
+body-snatcher," and, being inordinately proud of his _jeu d'esprit_, he
+had worn it threadbare, and Miss Wangle had got to know of it.  The
+result was the sudden departure of the wit.  Miss Wangle had intimated
+to Mrs. Craske-Morton, the proprietress, that if he remained she would
+go.  Mrs. Craske-Morton considered that Miss Wangle gave tone to Galvin
+House.
+
+Miss Wangle was acid of speech and barren of pity.  Scandal and "the
+dear bishop" were her chief preoccupations.  She regularly read _The
+Morning Post_, which she bought, and _The Times_, which she borrowed.
+In her attitude towards royalty she was a Jacobite, and of the
+aristocracy she knew no wrong.
+
+Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe was Miss Wangle's toady; but she wrapped her venom
+in Christian charity, thus making herself the more dangerous of the two.
+
+At Galvin House none dare gainsay these two in their pronouncements.
+They were disliked; but more feared than hated.  During the Zeppelin
+scare Mr. Bolton, who was the humorist of Galvin House, had fixed a
+notice to the drawing-room door, which read: "Zeppelin commanders are
+requested to confine their attentions to rooms 8 and 18."  Rooms 8 and
+18 were those occupied by Miss Wangle and Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe.  There
+had been a great fuss about this harmless and rather feeble joke; but
+fortunately for Mr. Bolton, he had taken care to pin his jest on the
+door when no one was looking, and he took the additional precaution of
+being foremost in his denunciation of the bad taste shown by the person
+responsible for the jest.
+
+Patricia Brent was coming downstairs in response to the dinner-gong,
+when, through the partly open door of the lounge, she overheard the
+amiable remarks concerning herself.  She passed quietly into the
+dining-room and took her seat at the table in silence, mechanically
+acknowledging the greetings of her fellow-guests.
+
+At Galvin House the word "guest" was insisted upon.  Mrs.
+Craske-Morton, in announcing the advent of a new arrival, reached the
+pinnacle of refinement.  "We have another guest coming," she would say,
+"a most interesting man," or "a very cultured woman," as the case might
+be.  When the man arrived without his interest, or the woman without
+her culture, no one was disappointed; for no one had expected anything.
+The conventions had been observed and that was all that mattered.
+
+Dinner at Galvin House was rather a dismal affair.  The separate tables
+heresy, advocated by a progressive-minded guest, had been once and for
+all discouraged by Miss Wangle, who announced that if separate tables
+were introduced she, for one, would not stay.
+
+"I remember the dear bishop once saying to me," she remarked, "'My
+dear, if people can't say what they have to say at a large table and in
+the hearing of others, then let it for ever remain unsaid.'"
+
+"But if someone's dress is awry, or their hair is not on straight,
+would you announce the fact to the whole table?" Patricia had
+questioned with an innocence that was a little overdone.
+
+Miss Wangle had glared; for she wore the most obvious auburn wig, which
+failed to convince anyone, and served only to enhance the pallor of her
+sharp features.
+
+In consequence of the table arrangements, conversation during
+meal-times was general--and dull.  Mr. Bolton joked, Miss Wangle poured
+vinegar on oily waters, Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe "dripped with the oil of
+forbearance."  Mr. Cordal ate noisily, Miss Sikkum simpered and Mrs.
+Craske-Morton strove to appear a real hostess entertaining real guests
+without the damning prefix "paying."
+
+The remaining guests, there were usually round about twenty-five,
+looked as they felt they ought to look, and never failed to show a
+befitting reverence for Miss Wangle's ecclesiastical relic; for it was
+Miss Wangle who issued the social birth certificates at Galvin House.
+
+That evening Patricia was silent.  Mr. Bolton endeavoured to draw her
+out, but failed.  As a rule she was the first to laugh at his jokes in
+order "to encourage the poor little man," as she expressed it; "for a
+man who is fat and bald and a bachelor and thinks he's a humorist wants
+all the pity that the world can lavish upon him."
+
+Patricia glanced round the table, from Miss Wangle, lean as a winter
+wolf, to Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe, fair, chubby and faded, and on to Mr.
+Cordal, lantern-jawed and ravenous.  "Were they not all lonely--the
+left of God?" Patricia asked herself; and yet two of these solitary
+souls had dared to pity her, Patricia Brent.  At least she had
+something they did not possess--youth.
+
+The more she thought of the words that had drifted to her through the
+half-closed door of the lounge, the more humiliating they appeared.
+Her day had been particularly trying and she was tired.  She was in a
+mood to see a cyclone in a zephyr, and in a ripple a gigantic wave.
+She looked about her once more.  What a fate to be cast among such
+people!
+
+The table appointments seemed more than usually irritating that
+evening.  The base metal that peeped slyly through the silver of the
+forks and spoons, the tapering knives, victims of much cleaning, with
+their yellow handles, the salt-cellars, the mustard, browning with
+three days' age (mustard was replenished on Sundays only), the anaemic
+ferns in "artistic" pots, every defect seemed emphasized.
+
+How she hated it; but most of all the many-shaped and multi-coloured
+napkin-rings, at Galvin House known as "serviette-rings."  Variety was
+necessary to ensure each guest's personal interest in one particular
+napkin.  Did they ever get mixed?  Patricia shuddered at the thought.
+At the end of the week, a "serviette" had become a sort of gastronomic
+diary.  By Saturday evening (new "serviettes" were served out on Sunday
+at luncheon) the square of grey-white fabric had many things recorded
+upon it; but above all, like a monarch dominating his subjects, was the
+ineradicable aroma of Monday's kipper.
+
+On this particular evening Galvin House seemed more than ever grey and
+depressing.  Patricia found herself wondering if God had really made
+all these people in His own image.  They seemed so petty, so ungodlike.
+The way they regarded their food, as it was handed to them, suggested
+that they were for ever engaged in a comparison of what they paid with
+what they received.  Did God make people in His own image and then
+leave the rest to them?  Was that where free will came in?
+
+"----lonely!"
+
+The word seemed to crash in upon her thoughts with explosive force.
+Someone had used it--whom she did not know, or in what relation.  It
+brought her back to earth and Galvin House.  "Lonely," that was at the
+root of her depression.  She was an object of pity among her
+fellow-boarders.  It was intolerable!  She understood why girls "did
+things" to escape from such surroundings and such fox-pity.
+
+Had she been a domestic servant she could have hired a soldier, that is
+before the war.  Had she been a typist or a shop-girl--well, there were
+the park and tubes and things where gallant youth approached fair
+maiden.  No, she was just a girl who could not do these things, and in
+consequence became the pitied of the Miss Wangles and the Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythes of Bayswater.
+
+She was quite content to be manless, she did not like men, at least not
+the sort she had encountered.  There were Boltons and Cordals in
+plenty.  There were the "Haven't-we-met-before?" kind too, the hunters
+who seemed cheerfully to get out at the wrong station, or pay twopence
+on a bus for a penny fare in order to pursue some face that had
+attracted their roving eye.
+
+She sighed involuntarily at the ugliness of it all, this cheapening of
+the things worthy of reverence and respect.  She looked across at Miss
+Sikkum, whose short skirts and floppy hats had involved her in many
+unconventional adventures that one glance at her face had corrected as
+if by magic.  A back view of Miss Sikkum was deceptive.
+
+Suddenly Patricia made a resolve.  Had she paused to think she would
+have seen the danger; but she was by nature impulsive, and the
+conversation she had overheard had angered and humiliated her.
+
+Her resolve synchronised with the arrival of the sweet stage.  Turning
+to Mrs. Craske-Morton she remarked casually, "I shall not be in to
+dinner to-morrow night, Mrs. Morton."
+
+Mrs. Craske-Morton always liked her guests to tell her when they were
+not likely to be in to dinner.  "It saves the servants laying an extra
+cover," she would explain.  As a matter of fact it saved Mrs.
+Craske-Morton preparing for an extra mouth.
+
+If Patricia had hurled a bomb into the middle of the dining-table, she
+could not have attracted to herself more attention than by her simple
+remark that she was not dining at Galvin House on the morrow.
+
+Everybody stopped eating to stare at her.  Miss Sikkum missed her aim
+with a trifle of apple charlotte, and spent the rest of the evening in
+endeavouring to remove the stain from a pale blue satin blouse, which
+in Brixton is known as "a Paris model."  It was Miss Wangle who broke
+the silence.
+
+"How interesting," she said.  "We shall quite miss you, Miss Brent.  I
+suppose you are working late."
+
+The whole table waited for Patricia's response with breathless
+expectancy.
+
+"No!" she replied nonchalantly.
+
+"I know," said Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe, in her even tones, and wagging an
+admonitory finger at her.  "You're going to a revue, or a music-hall."
+
+"Or to sow her wild oats," added Mr. Bolton.
+
+Then some devil took possession of Patricia.  She would give them
+something to talk about for the next month.  They should have a shock.
+
+"No," she replied indifferently, attracting to herself the attention of
+the whole table by her deliberation.  "No, I'm not going to a revue, a
+music-hall, or to sow my wild oats.  As a matter of fact," she paused.
+They literally hung upon her words.  "As a matter of fact I am dining
+with my fiance."
+
+The effect was electrical.  Miss Sikkum stopped dabbing the front of
+her Brixton "Paris model."  Miss Wangle dropped her pince-nez on the
+edge of her plate and broke the right-hand glass.  Mr. Cordal, a heavy
+man who seldom spoke, but enjoyed his food with noisy gusto, actually
+exclaimed, "What?"  Almost without exception the others repeated his
+exclamation.
+
+"Your fiance?" stuttered Miss Wangle.
+
+"But, dear Miss Brent," said Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe, "you never told us
+that you were engaged."
+
+"Didn't I?" enquired Patricia indifferently.
+
+"And you don't wear a ring," interposed Miss Sikkum eagerly.
+
+"I hate badges of servitude," remarked Patricia with a laugh.
+
+"But an engagement ring," insinuated Miss Sikkum with a self-conscious
+giggle.
+
+"One is freer without a ring," replied Patricia.
+
+Miss Wangle's jaw dropped.
+
+"Marriages are----" she began.
+
+"Made in heaven.  I know," broke in Patricia, "but you try wearing
+Turkish slippers in London, Miss Wangle, and you'll soon want to go
+back to the English boots.  It's silly to make things in one place to
+be worn in another; they never fit."
+
+Mrs. Craske-Morton coughed portentously.
+
+"Really, Miss Brent," she exclaimed.
+
+Whenever conversation seemed likely to take an undesirable turn, or she
+foresaw a storm threatening, Mrs. Craske-Morton's "Really, Mr.
+So-and-so" invariably guided it back into a safe channel.
+
+"But do they?" persisted Patricia.  "Can you, Mrs. Morton, seriously
+regard marriage in this country as a success?  It's all because
+marriages are made in heaven without taking into consideration our
+climatic conditions."
+
+Miss Wangle had lost the power of speech.  Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe was
+staring at Patricia as if she had been something strange and unclean
+upon which her eyes had never hitherto lighted.  In the eyes of little
+Mrs. Hamilton, a delightfully French type of old lady, there was a
+gleam of amusement.  Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe was the first to recover the
+power of speech.
+
+"Is your fiance in the army?"
+
+"Yes," replied Patricia desperately.  She had long since thrown over
+all caution.
+
+"Oh, tell us his name," giggled Miss Sikkum.
+
+"Brown," said Patricia.
+
+"Is his knapsack number 99?" enquired Mr. Bolton.
+
+"He doesn't wear one," said Patricia, now thoroughly enjoying herself.
+
+"Oh, he's an officer, then," this from Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe.
+
+"Is he a first or a second lieutenant?" enquired Mrs. Craske-Morton.
+
+"Major," responded Patricia laconically.
+
+"What's he in?" was the next question.
+
+"West Loamshires."
+
+"What battalion?" enquired Miss Wangle, who had now regained the power
+of speech.  "I have a cousin in the Fifth."
+
+"I am sure I can't remember," said Patricia, "I never could remember
+numbers."
+
+"Not remember the number of the battalion in which your fiance is?"
+There was incredulous disapproval in Miss Wangle's voice.
+
+"No!  I'm awfully sorry," replied Patricia, "I suppose it's very horrid
+of me; but I'll go upstairs and look it up if you like."
+
+"Oh please don't trouble," said Miss Wangle icily.  "I remember the
+dear bishop once saying----"
+
+"And I suppose after dinner you'll go to a theatre," interrupted Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe, for the first time in the memory of the oldest guest
+indifferent to the bishop and what he had said, thought, or done.
+
+"Oh, no, it's war time," said Patricia, "we shall just dine quietly at
+the Quadrant Grill-room."
+
+A meaning glance passed between Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe and Miss Wangle.
+Why she had fixed upon the Quadrant Grill-room Patricia could not have
+said.
+
+"And now," said Patricia, "I must run upstairs and see that my best bib
+and tucker are in proper condition to be worn before my fiance.  I'll
+tell him what you say about the ring.  Good night, everybody, if we
+don't meet again."
+
+
+"Patricia Brent," admonished Patricia to her reflection in the
+looking-glass, as she brushed her hair that night, "you're a most
+unmitigated little liar.  You've told those people the wickedest of
+wicked lies.  You've engaged yourself to an unknown major in the
+British Army.  You're going to dine with him to-morrow night, and
+heaven knows what will be the result of it all.  A single lie leads to
+so many.  Oh, Patricia, Patricia!" she nodded her head admonishingly at
+the reflection in the glass.  "You're really a very wicked young
+woman."  Then she burst out laughing.  "At least, I have given them
+something to talk about, any old how.  By now they've probably come to
+the conclusion that I'm a most awful rip."
+
+Patricia never confessed it to herself, but she was extremely lonely.
+Instinctively shy of strangers, she endeavoured to cover up her
+self-consciousness by assuming an attitude of nonchalance, and the
+result was that people saw only the artificiality.  She had been
+brought up in the school of "men are beasts," and she took no trouble
+to disguise her indifference to them.  With women she was more popular.
+If anyone were ill at Galvin House, it was always Patricia Brent who
+ministered to them, sat and read to them, and cheered them through
+convalescence back to health.
+
+Her acquaintance with men had been almost entirely limited to those she
+had found in the various boarding-houses, glorified in the name of
+residential hotels, at which she had stayed.  Five years previously, on
+the death of her father, a lawyer in a small country town, she had come
+to London and obtained a post as secretary to a blossoming politician.
+There she had made herself invaluable, and there she had stayed,
+performing the same tasks day after day, seldom going out, since the
+war never at all, and living a life calculated to make an acid spinster
+of a Venus or a Juno.
+
+"Oh, bother to-morrow!" said Patricia as she got into bed that night;
+"it's a long way off and perhaps something will happen before then,"
+and with that she switched off the light.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE BONSOR-TRIGGS' MENAGE
+
+The next morning Patricia awakened with a feeling that something had
+occurred in her life.  For a time she lay pondering as to what it could
+be.  Suddenly memory came with a flash, and she smiled.  That night she
+was dining out!  As suddenly as it had come the smile faded from her
+lips and eyes, and she mentally apostrophised herself as a little idiot
+for what she had done.  Then, remembering Miss Wangle's remark and the
+expression on Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe's face, the lines of her mouth
+hardened, and there was a determined air about the tilt of her chin.
+She smiled again.
+
+"Patricia Brent!  No, that won't do," she broke off.  Then springing
+out of bed she went over to the mirror, adjusted the dainty boudoir cap
+upon her head and, bowing elaborately to her reflection, said,
+"Patricia Brent, I invite you to dine with me this evening at the
+Quadrant Grill-room.  I hope you'll be able to come.  How delightful.
+We shall have a most charming time."  Then she sat on the edge of the
+bed and pondered.
+
+Of course she would have to come back radiantly happy, girls who have
+been out with their fiance's always return radiantly happy.  "That will
+mean two _cremes de menthes_ instead of one, that's another shilling,
+perhaps two," she murmured.  Then she must have a good dinner or else
+the _creme de menthe_ would get into her head, that would mean about
+seven shillings more.  "Oh!  Patricia, Patricia," she wailed, "you have
+let yourself in for an expense of at least ten shillings, the point
+being is a major in the British Army worth an expenditure of ten
+shillings?  We shall----"
+
+She was interrupted by the maid knocking at the door to inform her that
+it was her turn for the bath-room.
+
+As Patricia walked across the Park that morning on her way to Eaton
+Square, where the politician lived who employed her as private
+secretary whilst he was in the process of rising, she pondered over her
+last night's announcement.  She was convinced that she had acted
+foolishly, and in a way that would probably involve her in not only
+expense, but some trouble and inconvenience.
+
+At the breakfast-table the conversation had been entirely devoted to
+herself, her fiance, and the coming dinner together.  Miss Wangle, Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe, and Miss Sikkum, supported by Mrs. Craske-Morton, had
+returned to the charge time after time.  Patricia had taken refuge in
+her habitual breakfast silence and, finding that they could draw
+nothing from her her fellow-guests had proceeded to discuss the matter
+among themselves.  It was with a feeling of relief that Patricia rose
+from the table.
+
+There was an east wind blowing, and Patricia had always felt that an
+east wind made her a materialist.  This morning she was depressed;
+there was in her heart a feeling that fate had not been altogether kind
+to her.  Her childhood had been spent in a small town on the East Coast
+under the care of her father's sister who, when Mrs. Brent died, had
+come to keep house for Mr. John Brent and take care of his
+five-year-old daughter.  In her aunt Patricia found a woman soured by
+life.  What it was that had soured her Patricia could never gather; but
+Aunt Adelaide was for ever emphasizing the fact that men were beasts.
+
+Later Patricia saw in her aunt a disappointed woman.  She could
+remember as a child examining with great care her aunt's hard features
+and angular body, and wondering if she had ever been pretty, and if
+anyone had kissed her because they wanted to and not because it was
+expected of them.
+
+The lack of sympathy between aunt and niece had driven Patricia more
+and more to seek her father's companionship.  He was a silent man,
+little given to emotion or demonstration of affection.  He loved
+Patricia, but lacked the faculty of conveying to her the knowledge of
+his love.
+
+As she walked across the Park Patricia came to the conclusion that, for
+some reason or other, love, or the outward visible signs of love, had
+been denied her.  Warm-hearted, impetuous, spontaneous, she had been
+chilled by the self-repression of her father, and the lack of affection
+of her aunt.  She had been schooled to regard God as the God of
+punishment rather than the God of love.  One of her most terrifying
+recollections was that of the Sundays spent under the paternal roof.
+To her father, religion counted for nothing; but to her aunt it counted
+for everything in the world; the hereafter was to be the compensation
+for renunciation in this world.  Miss Brent's attitude towards prayer
+was that of one who regards it as a means by which she is able to
+convey to the Almighty what she expects of Him in the next world as a
+reward for what she has done, or rather not done, in this.
+
+Patricia had once asked, in a childish moment of speculation, "But,
+Aunt Adelaide, suppose God doesn't make us happy in the next world,
+what shall we do then?"
+
+"Oh! yes He will," was her aunt's reply, uttered with such grimness
+that Patricia, though only six years of age, had been satisfied that
+not even God would dare to disappoint Aunt Adelaide.
+
+Patricia had been a lonely child.  She had come to distrust spontaneity
+and, in consequence, became shy and self-conscious, with the inevitable
+result that other children, the few who were in Aunt Adelaide's opinion
+fit for her to associate with, made it obvious that she was one by
+herself.  Patricia had fallen back on her father's library, where she
+had read many books that would have caused her aunt agonies of stormy
+anguish, had she known.
+
+Patricia early learnt the necessity for dissimulation.  She always
+carefully selected two books, one that she could ostensibly be reading
+if her aunt happened to come into the library, and the other that she
+herself wanted to read, and of which she knew her aunt would strongly
+disapprove.
+
+Miss Brent regarded boarding-schools as "hotbeds of vice," and in
+consequence Patricia was educated at home, educated in a way that she
+would never have been at any school; for Miss Brent was thorough in
+everything she undertook.  The one thing for which Patricia had to be
+grateful to her aunt was her general knowledge, and the sane methods
+adopted with her education.  But for this she would not have been in
+the position to accept a secretaryship to a politician.
+
+When Patricia was twenty-one her father had died, and she inherited
+from her mother an annuity of a hundred pounds a year.  Her aunt had
+suggested that they should live together; but Patricia had announced
+her intention of working, and with the money that she realised from the
+sale of her father's effects, particularly his library, she came to
+London and underwent a course of training in shorthand, typewriting,
+and general secretarial work.  This was in March, 1914.  Before she was
+ready to undertake a post, the war broke out upon Europe like a
+cataclysm, and a few months later Patricia had obtained a post as
+private secretary to Mr. Arthur Bonsor, M.P.
+
+Mr. Bonsor was the victim of marriage.  Destiny had ordained that he
+should spend his life in golf and gardening, or in breeding earless
+rabbits and stingless bees.  He was bucolic and passive.  Mrs. Bonsor,
+however, after a slight altercation with Destiny, had decided that Mr.
+Bonsor was to become a rising politician.  Thus it came about that,
+pushed on from behind by Mrs. Bonsor and led by Patricia, whose general
+knowledge was of the greatest possible assistance to him, Mr. Bonsor
+was in the elaborate process of rising at the time when Patricia
+determined to have a fiance.
+
+Mr. Bonsor was a small, fair-haired man, prematurely bald, an
+indifferent speaker; but excellent in committee.  Instinctively he was
+gentle and kind.  Mrs. Bonsor disliked Patricia and Patricia was
+indifferent to Mrs. Bonsor.  Mrs. Bonsor, however, recognised that in
+Patricia her husband had a remarkably good secretary, one whom it would
+be difficult to replace.
+
+Mrs. Bonsor's attitude to everyone who was not in a superior position
+to herself was one of patronage.  Patricia she looked upon as an upper
+servant, although she never dare show it.  Patricia, on the other hand,
+showed very clearly that she had no intention of being treated other
+than as an equal by Mrs. Bonsor, and the result was a sort of armed
+neutrality.  They seldom met; when by chance they encountered each
+other in the house Mrs. Bonsor would say, "Good morning, Miss Brent; I
+hope you walked across the Park."  Patricia would reply, "Yes, most
+enjoyable; I invariably walk across the Park when I have time"; and
+with a forced smile Mrs. Bonsor would say, "That is very wise of you."
+
+Never did Mrs. Bonsor speak to Patricia without enquiring if she had
+walked across the Park.  One day Patricia anticipated Mrs. Bonsor's
+inevitable question by announcing, "I walked across the Park this
+morning, Mrs. Bonsor, it was most delightful," and Mrs. Bonsor had
+glared at her, but, remembering Patricia's value to her husband, had
+made a non-committal reply and passed on.  Henceforth, Mrs. Bonsor
+dropped all reference to the Park.
+
+On the first day of Patricia's entry into the Bonsor household, Mrs.
+Bonsor had remarked, "Of course you will stay to lunch," and Patricia
+had thanked her and said she would.  But when she found that her
+luncheon was served on a tray in the library, where Mr. Bonsor did his
+work, she had decided that henceforth exercise in the middle of the day
+was necessary for her, and she lunched out.
+
+Mr. Bonsor had married beneath him.  His father, a land-poor squire in
+the north of England, had impressed upon all his sons that money was
+essential as a matrimonial asset, and Mr. Bonsor, not having sufficient
+individuality to starve for love, had determined to follow the parental
+decree.  How he met Miss Triggs, the daughter of the prosperous
+Streatham builder and contractor, Samuel Triggs, nobody knew, but his
+father had congratulated him very cordially about having contrived to
+marry her.  Miss Triggs's friends to a woman were of the firm
+conviction that it was Miss Triggs who had married Mr. Bonsor.
+"'Ettie's so ambitious."  remarked her father soon after the wedding,
+"that it's almost a relief to get 'er married."
+
+Mr. Bonsor was scarcely back from his honeymoon before he was in full
+possession of the fact that Mrs. Bonsor had determined that he should
+become famous.  She had read how helpful many great men's wives had
+been in their career, and she determined to be the power behind the
+indeterminate Arthur Bonsor.  Poor Mr. Bonsor, who desired nothing
+better than a peaceable life and had looked forward to a future of ease
+and prosperity when he married Miss Triggs, discovered when too late
+that he had married not so much Miss Triggs, as an abstract sense of
+ambition.  Domestic peace was to be purchased only by an attitude of
+entire submission to Mrs. Bonsor's schemes.  He was not without brains,
+but he lacked that impetus necessary to "getting on."  Mrs. Bonsor, who
+was not lacking in shrewdness, observed this and determined that she
+herself would be the impetus.
+
+Mr. Bonsor came to dread meal-times, that is meal-times _tete-a-tete_.
+During these symposiums he was subjected to an elaborate
+cross-examination as to what he was doing to achieve greatness.  Mrs.
+Bonsor insisted upon his being present at every important function to
+which he could gain admittance, particularly the funerals of the
+illustrious great.  Egged on by her he became an inveterate writer of
+letters to the newspapers, particularly _The Times_.  Sometimes his
+letters appeared, which caused Mrs. Bonsor intense gratification: but
+editors soon became shy of a man who bombarded them with letters upon
+every conceivable subject, from the submarine menace to the question of
+"should women wear last year's frocks?"
+
+Mr. Triggs had once described his daughter very happily: "'Ettie's one
+of them that ain't content with pressing a bell, but she must keep 'er
+thumb on the bell-push."  That was Mrs. Bonsor all over; she lacked
+restraint, both physical and artistic, and she conceived that if you
+only make noise enough people will, sooner or later, begin to take
+notice.
+
+Within three years of his marriage, Mr. Bonsor entered the House of
+Commons.  He had first of all fought in a Radical constituency and been
+badly beaten; but the second time he had, by some curious juggling of
+chance, been successful in an almost equally strong Radical division,
+much to the delight of Mrs. Bonsor.  The success had been largely due
+to her idea of flooding the constituency with pretty girl-canvassers;
+but she had been very careful to keep a watchful eye on Mr. Bonsor.
+
+One of her reasons for engaging Patricia, for really Mrs. Bonsor was
+responsible for the engagement, had been that she had decided that
+Patricia was indifferent to men, and she decided that Mr. Bonsor might
+safely be trusted with Patricia Brent for long periods of secretarial
+communion.
+
+Mr. Bonsor, although not lacking in susceptibility, was entirely devoid
+of that courage which subjugates the feminine heart.  Once he had
+permitted his hand to rest upon Patricia's; but he never forgot the
+look she gave him and, for weeks after, he felt a most awful dog, and
+wondered if Patricia would tell Mrs. Bonsor.
+
+When she married, Mrs. Bonsor saw that it would be necessary to drop
+her family, that is as far as practicable.  It could not be done
+entirely, because her father was responsible for the allowance which
+made it possible for the Bonsors to live in Eaton Square.  The old man
+was not lacking in shrewdness, and he had no intention of being thrown
+overboard by his ambitious daughter.  It occasionally happened that Mr.
+Triggs would descend upon the Bonsor household and, although Mrs.
+Bonsor did her best to suppress him, that is without in any way showing
+she was ashamed of her parent, he managed to make Patricia's
+acquaintance and, from that time, made a practice of enquiring for and
+having a chat with her.
+
+Mrs. Bonsor was grateful to providence for having removed her mother
+previous to her marriage.  Mrs. Triggs had been a homely soul, with a
+marked inclination to be "friendly."  She overflowed with good-humour,
+and was a woman who would always talk in an omnibus, or join a wedding
+crowd and compare notes with those about her.  She addressed Mr. Triggs
+as "Pa," which caused her daughter a mental anguish of which Mrs.
+Triggs was entirely unaware.  It was not until Miss Triggs was almost
+out of her teens that her mother was persuaded to cease calling her
+"Girlie."
+
+In Mrs. Bonsor the reforming spirit was deeply ingrained; but she had
+long since despaired of being able to influence her father's taste in
+dress.  She groaned in spirit each time she saw him, for his sartorial
+ideas were not those of Mayfair.  He leaned towards checks, rather loud
+checks, trousers that were tight about the calf, and a coat that was a
+sporting conception of the morning coat, with a large flapped pocket on
+either side.  He invariably wore a red tie and an enormous watch-chain
+across his prosperous-looking figure.  His hat was a high felt, an
+affair that seemed to have set out in life with the ambition of being a
+top hat, but losing heart had compromised.
+
+If Mrs. Bonsor dreaded her father's visits, Patricia welcomed them.
+She was genuinely fond of the old man.  Mr. Triggs radiated happiness
+from the top of his shiny bald head, with its fringe of sandy-grey
+hair, to his square-toed boots that invariably emitted little squeaks
+of joy.  He wore a fringe of whiskers round his chubby face, otherwise
+he was clean-shaven, holding that beards were "messy" things.  He had
+what Patricia called "crinkly" eyes, that is to say each time he smiled
+there seemed to radiate from them hundreds of little lines.
+
+He always addressed Patricia as "me dear," and not infrequently brought
+her a box of chocolates, to the scandal of Mrs. Bonsor, who had once
+expostulated with him that that was not the way to treat her husband's
+secretary.
+
+"Tut, tut, 'Ettie," had been Mr. Triggs's response.  "She's a fine gal.
+If I was a bit younger I shouldn't be surprised if there was a second
+Mrs. Triggs."
+
+"Father!" Mrs. Bonsor had expostulated in horror.  "Remember that she
+is Arthur's secretary."
+
+Mr. Triggs had almost choked with laughter; mirth invariably seemed to
+interfere with his respiration and ended in violent and wheezy
+coughings and gaspings.  Had Mrs. Bonsor known that he repeated the
+conversation to Patricia, she would have been mortified almost to the
+point of discharging her husband's secretary.
+
+"You see, me dear," Mr. Triggs had once said to Patricia, "'Ettie's so
+busy bothering about aitches that she's got time for nothing else.  She
+ain't exactly proud of her old father," he had added shrewdly, "but she
+finds 'is brass a bit useful."  Mr. Triggs was under no delusion as to
+his daughter's attitude towards him.
+
+One day he had asked Patricia rather suddenly, "Why don't you get
+married, me dear?"
+
+Patricia had started and looked up at him quickly.  "Married, me, Mr.
+Triggs?  Oh!  I suppose for one thing nobody wants me, and for another
+I'm not in love."
+
+Mr. Triggs had pondered a little over this.
+
+"That's right, me dear!" he said at length.  "Never you marry except
+you feel you can't 'elp it, then you'll know it's the right one.  Don't
+you marry a chap because he's got a lot of brass.  You marry for the
+same reason that me and my missis married, because we felt we couldn't
+do without each other," and the old man's voice grew husky.  "You
+wouldn't believe it, me dear, 'ow I miss 'er, though she's been dead
+eight years next May."
+
+Patricia had been deeply touched and, not knowing what to say, had
+stretched out her hand to the old man, who took and held it for a
+moment in his.  As she drew her hand away she felt a tear splash upon
+it, and it was not her own.
+
+"Ever hear that song 'My Old Dutch'?" he asked after a lengthy silence.
+
+Patricia nodded.
+
+"I used to sing it to 'er--God bless my soul! what an old fool I'm
+gettin', talkin' to you in this way.  Now I must be gettin' off.  Lor!
+what would 'Ettie say if she knew?"
+
+But Mrs. Bonsor did not know.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE ADVENTURE AT THE QUADRANT GRILL-ROOM
+
+That evening as Patricia looked in at the lounge on the way to her
+room, she found it unusually crowded.  On a normal day her appearance
+would scarcely have been noticed; but this evening it was the signal
+for a sudden cessation in the buzz of conversation, and all eyes were
+upon her.  For a moment she stood in the doorway and then, with a nod
+and a smile, she turned and proceeded upstairs, conscious of the
+whispering that broke out as soon as her back was turned.
+
+As she stood before the mirror, wondering what she should wear for the
+night's adventure, she recalled a remark of Miss Wangle's that no
+really nice-minded woman ever dressed in black and white unless she had
+some ulterior motive.  Upon the subject of sex-attraction Miss Wangle
+posed as an authority, and hinted darkly at things that thrilled Miss
+Sikkum to ecstatic giggles, and Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe to pianissimo
+moans of anguish that such things could be.
+
+With great deliberation Patricia selected a black charmeuse costume
+that Miss Wangle had already confided to the whole of Galvin House was
+at least two and a half inches too short; but as Patricia had explained
+to Mrs. Hamilton, if you possess exquisitely fitting patent boots that
+come high up the leg, it's a sin for the skirt to be too long.  She
+selected a black velvet hat with a large white water-lily on the upper
+brim.
+
+"You look bad enough for a vicar's daughter," she said, surveying
+herself in the glass as she fastened a bunch of red carnations in her
+belt.  "White at the wrists and on the hat, yes, it looks most
+improper.  I wonder what the major-man will think?"
+
+Swift movements, deft touches, earnest scrutiny followed one another.
+Patricia was an artist in dress.  Finally, when her gold wristlet watch
+had been fastened over a white glove she subjected herself to a final
+and exhaustive examination.
+
+"Now, Patricia!"--it had become with her a habit to address her
+reflection in the mirror--"shall we carry an umbrella, or shall we
+not?"  For a few moments she regarded herself quizzically, then finally
+announced, "No: we will not.  An umbrella suggests a bus, or the tube,
+and when a girl goes out with a major in the British Army, she goes in
+a taxi.  No, we will not carry an umbrella."
+
+She still lingered in front of the mirror, looking at herself with
+obvious approval.
+
+"Yes, Patricia! you are looking quite nice.  Your eyes are violeter,
+your hair more sunsetty and your lips redder than usual, and, yes, your
+face generally looks happier."
+
+When she entered the lounge it was twenty minutes to eight and,
+although dinner was at seven-thirty, the room was full.  Everybody
+stared at her as with flushed cheeks she walked to the centre of the
+room.  Then suddenly turning to Miss Wangle, she said, "Do you think I
+shall do, Miss Wangle, or do I look too wicked for a major?"
+
+Miss Wangle merely stared.  Mrs. Hamilton smiled and Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe looked sympathetically at Miss Wangle.  Mr. Bolton
+laughed.
+
+"I wish I was a major, Miss Brent," he remarked, at which Patricia
+turned to him and made an elaborate curtsy.
+
+"That girl will come to a bad end," remarked Miss Wangle with
+conviction to Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe, as with a smile over her shoulder
+Patricia made a dramatic exit.  She had noticed, however, that Miss
+Wangle and Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe were in hats and jackets.  They, too,
+were apparently going out, although she had not heard them tell Mrs.
+Craske-Morton so.  Mr. Bolton also had his hat in his hand.  During the
+day Patricia had thought out very carefully the part she had set
+herself to play.  If she were going to meet her fiance back from the
+Front, she must appear radiantly happy, vide conventional opinion.  But
+she had admonished her reflection in the mirror, "You mustn't overdo
+it.  Women, especially tabbies, are very acute."
+
+It had been Patricia's intention to go by bus but at the entrance of
+the lounge she saw Gustave who ingratiatingly enquired, "Taxi, mees?"
+
+With a smile she nodded her head, and Gustave disappeared.  "There goes
+another two shillings.  Oh, bother Major Brown!  Soldiers are costly
+luxuries," she muttered under her breath.
+
+A moment after Gustave reappeared with the intimation that the taxi was
+at the door.  A group of her fellow-guests gathered in the hall to see
+her off.  Patricia thought their attitude more appropriate to a wedding
+than the fact that one of their fellow-boarders was going out to
+dinner.  "It is clear," she thought, "that Patricia Brent, man-catcher,
+is a much more important person than is Patricia Brent, inveterate
+spinster."
+
+She noticed that there was a second taxi at the door, and while her own
+driver was "winding-up" his machine, which took some little time, the
+other taxi got off in front.  She had seen get into it Miss Wangle,
+Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe, and Mr. Bolton.
+
+As the taxi sped eastward, Patricia began to speculate as to what she
+really intended doing.  She had no appointment, she was in a taxi which
+would cost her two shillings at least, and she had given the address of
+the Quadrant Grill-room.
+
+She was still considering what she should do when the taxi drew up.
+Fate and the taxi driver had decided the matter between them, and
+Patricia determined to go through with it and disappoint neither.
+Having paid the man and tipped him handsomely, she descended the stairs
+to the Grill-room.  She had no idea of what it cost to dine at the
+Quadrant; but remembered with a comfortable feeling that she had some
+two pounds upon her.  With moderation, she decided, it might be
+possible to get a meal for that sum without attracting the adverse
+criticism of the staff.  It had not struck her that it might appear
+strange for a girl to dine alone at such a restaurant as the Quadrant,
+and that she was laying herself open to criticism.  She was too excited
+at this new adventure into which she had been precipitated for careful
+reasoning.
+
+As she descended the stairs she caught a glimpse of herself in a
+mirror.  She started.  Surely that could not be Patricia Brent,
+secretary to a rising politician, that stylish-looking girl in black,
+with a large bunch of carnations.  That red-haired creature with
+sparkling eyes and a colour that seemed to have caught the reflection
+of the carnations in her belt!
+
+She entered the lounge at the foot of the stairs with increased
+confidence, and she was conscious that several men turned to look at
+her with interest.  Then suddenly the bottom fell out of her world.
+There, standing in the vestibule, were Miss Wangle, Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe, and Mr. Bolton.  In a flash she saw it all.  They had
+come to spy upon her.  They would find her out, and the whole
+humiliating story would probably have to be told.  Thoughts seemed to
+spurt through her mind.  What was she to do?  It was too late to
+retreat.  Miss Wangle had already fixed her with a stony stare through
+her lorgnettes, which she carried only on special occasions.
+
+Patricia was conscious of bowing and smiling sweetly.  Some
+sub-conscious power seemed to take possession of her.  Still wondering
+what she should do, she found herself walking head in the air and
+perfectly composed, in the direction of the Grill-room.  She was
+conscious of being followed by Miss Wangle and her party.  As Patricia
+rounded the glass screen a superintendent came up and enquired if she
+had a table.  She heard a voice that seemed like and yet unlike her own
+answer, "Yes, thank you," and she passed on looking from right to left
+as if in search of someone, unconscious of the many glances cast in her
+direction.
+
+When about half-way up the long room, just past the bandstand, the
+terrible thought came to her of a possible humiliating retreat.  What
+was she to do?  Why was she there?  What were her plans?  She looked
+about her, hoping that she did not appear so frightened as she felt.
+She was conscious of the gaze of a man seated at a table a few yards
+off.  He was fair and in khaki.  That was all she knew.  Yes, he was
+looking at her intently.
+
+"No, that table won't do!  It is too near to the band."  It was Miss
+Wangle's voice behind her.  Without a moment's hesitation her
+sub-conscious self once more took possession of Patricia, and she
+marched straight up to the fair-haired man in khaki and in a voice loud
+enough for Miss Wangle and her party to hear cried:
+
+"Hullo! so here you are, I thought I should never find you."  Then as
+he rose she murmured under her breath, "Please play up to me, I'm in an
+awful hole.  I'll explain presently."
+
+Without a moment's hesitation the man replied, "You're very late.  I
+waited for you a long time outside, then I gave you up."
+
+With a look of gratitude and a sigh of content, Patricia sank down into
+the chair a waiter had placed for her.  If there had been no chair, she
+would have fallen to the floor, her legs refusing further to support
+her body.  She was trembling all over.  Miss Wangle had selected the
+next table.  Patricia was conscious of hoping that somewhere in the
+next world Miss Wangle's sufferings would transcend those of Dives as a
+hundred to one.
+
+As she was pulling off her gloves her companion held a low-toned
+colloquy with the waiter.  She stole a glance at him.  What must he be
+thinking?  How had he classified her?  Her heart was pounding against
+her ribs as if determined to burst through.
+
+Suddenly she remembered that the others were watching and, leaning upon
+the table, she said:
+
+"Please pretend to be very pleased to see me.  We must talk a lot.  You
+know--you know--" then she turned aside in confusion; but with an
+effort she said, "You--you are supposed to be my fiance, and you've
+just come back from France, and--and----  Oh! what are you thinking of
+me?  Please--please----" she broke off.
+
+Very gravely and with smiling eyes he replied, "I quite understand.
+Please don't worry.  Something has happened, and if I can do anything
+to help, you have only to tell me.  My name is Bowen, and I'm just back
+from France."
+
+"Are you a major?" enquired Patricia, to whom stars and crowns meant
+nothing.
+
+"I'm afraid I'm a lieutenant-colonel," he replied, "on the Staff."
+
+"Oh! what a pity," said Patricia, "I said you were a major."
+
+"Couldn't you say I've been promoted?"
+
+Patricia clapped her hands.  "Oh! how splendid!  Of course!  You see I
+said that you were Major Brown, I can easily tell them that they
+misunderstood and that it was Major Bowen.  They are such awful cats,
+and if they found out I should have to leave.  You see that's some of
+them at the next table there.  That's Miss Wangle with the lorgnettes
+and the other woman is Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe, who is her echo, and the
+man is Mr. Bolton.  He's nothing in particular."
+
+"I see," said Bowen.
+
+"And--and--of course you've got to pretend to be most awfully glad to
+see me.  You see we haven't met for a long time and--and--we're
+engaged."
+
+"I quite understand," was the reply.
+
+Then suddenly Patricia caught his eye and saw the smile in it.
+
+"Oh, how dreadful!" she cried.  "Of course you don't know anything
+about it.  I'm talking like a schoolgirl.  You see my name's Patricia,
+Patricia Brent," and then she plunged into the whole story, telling him
+frankly of her escapade.  He was strangely easy to talk to.
+
+"And--and--" she concluded, "what do you think of me?"
+
+"I think I'd sooner not tell you just now," he smiled.
+
+"Is it as bad as that," she enquired.
+
+Then suddenly the smile faded from his face and he leaned across to
+her, saying:
+
+"Miss Brent----"
+
+"I'm afraid you must call me Patricia," she interrupted with a comical
+look, "in case they overhear.  It seems rather sudden, doesn't it, and
+I shall have to call you----"
+
+"Peter," he said.  He had nice eyes Patricia decided.
+
+"Er--er--Peter," she made a dash at the name.
+
+Bowen sat back in his chair and laughed.  Miss Wangle fixed upon him a
+stare through her lorgnettes, not an unfavourable stare, she was
+greatly impressed by his rank and red tabs.
+
+After that the ice seemed broken and Patricia and her "fiance" chatted
+merrily together, greatly impressing Patricia's fellow-boarders.
+
+Bowen was a good talker and a sympathetic listener and, above all, his
+attitude had in it that deference which put Patricia entirely at her
+ease.  She told him all there was to tell about herself and he, in
+return, explained that he came of an army family, and had been sent out
+to France soon after Mons.  He was then a captain in the Yeomanry.  He
+was wounded, promoted, and later received the D.S.O. and M.C.  He had
+now been brought back to England and attached to the General Staff.
+
+"Now I think you know all that is necessary to know about your fiance,"
+he had concluded.
+
+Patricia laughed.  "Oh, by the way," she said, "you have never given me
+an engagement ring.  Please don't forget that.  They asked me where my
+ring was, and I told them I didn't care about rings, as they were
+badges of servitude.  You see it is quite possible that Miss Wangle
+will come over to us presently.  She's just that sort, and she might
+ask awkward questions, that is why I am telling you all about myself."
+
+"I'll remember," said Bowen.
+
+"I'm glad you're a D.S.O., though," she went on, half to herself,
+"that's sure to interest them, and it's nice to think you're more than
+a major.  Miss Wangle and Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe are most worldly-minded.
+Of course it would have been nicer had you been a field-marshal; but I
+suppose you couldn't be promoted from a major to a field-marshal in the
+course of a few days, could you?"
+
+"Well, it's not usual," he confessed.
+
+When the meal was over Bowen looked at his watch.
+
+"I'm afraid it's too late for a show, it's a quarter to ten."
+
+"A quarter to ten!" cried Patricia.  "How the time has flown.  I shall
+have to be going home."
+
+He noticed preparations for a move at the Wangle table.
+
+"Oh, please, don't hurry!  Let's go upstairs and sit and smoke for a
+little time."
+
+"Do you think I ought," enquired Patricia critically, her head on one
+side.
+
+"Well," replied Bowen, "I think that you might safely do so as we are
+engaged," and that settled it.
+
+They went upstairs, and it was a quarter to eleven before Patricia
+finally decided that she must make a move.
+
+"Do you know," she said as she rose, "I am afraid I have enjoyed this
+most awfully; but oh! to-morrow morning."
+
+"Shall you be tired?" he enquired.
+
+"Tired!" she queried, "I shall be hot with shame.  I shall not dare to
+look at myself in the glass.  I--I shall give myself a most awful time.
+For days I shall live in torture.  You see I'm excited now
+and--and--you seem so nice, and you've been so awfully kind; but when I
+get alone, then I shall start wondering what was in your mind, what you
+have been thinking of me, and--and--oh! it will be awful.  No; I'll
+come with you while you get your hat.  I daren't be left alone.  It
+might come on then and--and I should probably bolt.  Of course I shall
+have to ask you to see me home, if you will, because--because----"
+
+"I'm your fiance," he smiled.
+
+"Ummm," she nodded.
+
+Both were silent as they sped along westward in the taxi, neither
+seeming to wish to break the spell.
+
+"Thinking?" enquired Bowen at length, as they passed the Marble Arch.
+
+"I was thinking how perfectly sweet you've been," replied Patricia
+gravely.  "You have understood everything and--and--you see I was so
+much at your mercy.  Shall I tell you what I was thinking?"
+
+"Please do."
+
+"It sounds horribly sentimental."
+
+"Never mind," he replied.
+
+"Well, I was thinking that your mother would like to know that you had
+done what you have done to-night.  And now, please, tell me how much my
+dinner was."
+
+"Your dinner!"
+
+"Yes, _ple-e-e-e-ase_," she emphasised the "please."
+
+"You insist?"
+
+And then Patricia did a strange thing.  She placed her hand upon
+Bowen's and pressed it.
+
+"Please go on understanding," she said, and he told her how much the
+dinner was and took the money from her.
+
+"May I pay for the taxi?" he enquired comically.
+
+For a moment she paused and then replied, "Yes, I think you may do
+that, and now here we are," as the taxi drew up, "and thank you very
+much indeed, and good-bye."  They were standing on the pavement outside
+Galvin House.
+
+"Good-bye," he enquired.  "Do you really mean it?"
+
+"Yes, _ple-e-e-ase_," again she emphasised the "please."
+
+"Patricia," he said in a serious tone, as the door flew open and
+Gustave appeared silhouetted against the light, "don't you think that
+sometimes we ought to think of the other fellow?"
+
+"I shall always think of the other fellow," and with a pressure of the
+hand, Patricia ran up the steps and disappeared into the hall, the door
+closing behind her.  Bowen turned slowly and re-entered the taxi.
+
+"Where to, sir?" enquired the man.
+
+"Oh, to hell!" burst out Bowen savagely.
+
+"Yes, sir; but wot about my petrol?"
+
+"Your petrol?  Oh!  I see," Bowen laughed.  "Well! the Quadrant then."
+
+In the hall Patricia hesitated.  Should she go into the lounge, where
+she was sure Galvin House would be gathered in full force, or should
+she go straight to bed?  Miss Wangle decided the matter by appearing at
+the door of the lounge.
+
+"Oh! here you are, Miss Brent; we thought you had eloped."
+
+"Wasn't it strange we should see you to-night?" lisped Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe, who had followed Miss Wangle.
+
+Patricia surveyed Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe with calculating calmness.
+
+"If two people go to the same Grill-room at the same time on the same
+evening, it would be strange if they did not see each other.  Don't you
+think so, Miss Wangle?"
+
+"Did you say you were going there?" lisped Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe, coming
+to Miss Wangle's assistance.  "We forgot."
+
+"Oh, do come in, Miss Brent!"  It was Mrs. Craske-Morton who spoke.
+
+Patricia entered the lounge and found, as she had anticipated, the
+whole establishment collected.  Not one was missing.  Even Gustave
+fluttered about from place to place, showing an unwonted desire to tidy
+up.  Patricia was conscious that her advent had interrupted a
+conversation of absorbing interest, furthermore that she herself had
+been the subject of that conversation.
+
+"Miss Wangle has been telling us all about your fiance."  It was Miss
+Sikkum who spoke.  "Fancy your saying he was a major when he's a Staff
+lieutenant-colonel."
+
+"Oh!" replied Patricia nonchalantly, as she pulled off her gloves,
+"they've been altering him.  They always do that in the Army.  You get
+engaged to a captain and you find you have to marry a general.  It's so
+stupid.  It's like buying a kitten and getting a kangaroo-pup sent
+home."
+
+"But aren't you pleased?" enquired Mrs. Craske-Morton, at a loss to
+understand Patricia's mood.
+
+"No!" snapped Patricia, who was already feeling the reaction.  "It's
+like being engaged to a chameleon, or a quick-change artist.  They've
+made him a 'R.S.O.' as well."  Under her lashes Patricia saw, with keen
+appreciation, the quick glances that were exchanged.
+
+"You mean a D.S.O., Distinguished Service Order," explained Mr. Bolton.
+"An R.S.O. is er--er--something you put on letters."
+
+"Is it?" enquired Patricia innocently, "I'm so stupid at remembering
+such things."
+
+"He was wearing the ribbon of the Military Cross, too," bubbled Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe.
+
+"Was he?"  Patricia was afraid of overdoing the pose of innocence she
+had adopted.  "What a nuisance."
+
+"A nuisance!"  There was surprised impatience in Miss Wangle's voice.
+
+Patricia turned to her sweetly.  "Yes, Miss Wangle.  It gives me such a
+lot to remember.  Now let me see."  She proceeded to tick off each word
+upon her fingers.  "He's a Lieutenant-Colonel Peter Bowen, D.S.O., M.C.
+Is that right?"
+
+"Bowen," almost shrieked Miss Wangle.  "You said Brown."
+
+"Did I?  I'm awfully sorry.  My memory's getting worse than ever."
+Then a wave of mischief took possession of her.  "Do you know when I
+went up to him to-night I hadn't the remotest idea of what his
+Christian name was."
+
+"Then what on earth do you call him then?" cried Mrs. Craske-Morton.
+
+"Call him?" queried Patricia, as she rose and gathered up her gloves.
+"Oh!" indifferently, "I generally call him 'Old Thing,'" and with that
+she left the lounge, conscious that she had scored a tactical victory.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE MADNESS OF LORD PETER BOWEN
+
+When Patricia awakened the next morning, it was with the feeling that
+she had suffered some terrible disappointment.  As a child she
+remembered experiencing the same sensation on the morning after some
+tragedy that had resulted in her crying herself to sleep.  She opened
+her eyes and was conscious that her lashes were wet with tears.
+Suddenly the memory of the previous night's adventure came back to her
+with a rush and, with an angry dab of the bedclothes, she wiped her
+eyes, just as the maid entered with the cup of early-morning tea she
+had specially ordered.
+
+With inspiration she decided to breakfast in bed.  She could not face a
+whole table of wide-eyed interrogation.  "Oh, the cats!" she muttered
+under her breath.  "I hate women!"  Later she slipped out of the house
+unobserved, with what she described to herself as a "morning after the
+party" feeling.  She was puzzled to account for the tears.  What had
+she been dreaming of to make her cry?
+
+Every time the thought of her adventure presented itself, she put it
+resolutely aside.  She was angry with herself, angry with the world,
+angry with one Lieutenant-Colonel Peter Bowen.  Why, she could not have
+explained.
+
+"Oh, bother!" she exclaimed, as she made a fourth correction in the
+same letter.  "Going out is evidently not good for you, Patricia."
+
+She spent the day alternately in wondering what Bowen was thinking of
+her, and deciding that he was not thinking of her at all.  Finally,
+with a feeling of hot shame, she remembered to what thoughts she had
+laid herself open.  Her one consolation was that she would never see
+him again.  Then, woman-like, she wondered whether he would make an
+effort to see her.  Would he be content with his dismissal?
+
+For the first time during their association, the rising politician was
+conscious that his secretary was anxious to get off sharp to time.  At
+five minutes to five she resolutely put aside her notebook, and banged
+the cover on to her typewriter.  Mr. Bonsor looked up at this unwonted
+energy and punctuality on Patricia's part, and with a tactful interest
+in the affairs of others that he was endeavouring to cultivate for
+political purposes, he enquired:
+
+"Going out?"
+
+"No," snapped Patricia, "I'm going home."
+
+Mr. Bonsor raised his eyebrows in astonishment.  He was a mild-mannered
+man who had learned the value of silence when faced by certain phases
+of feminine psychological phenomena.  He therefore made no comment; but
+he watched his secretary curiously as she swiftly left the room.
+
+Jabbing the pins into her hat and throwing herself into her coat,
+Patricia was walking down the steps of the rising politician's house in
+Eaton Square as the clock struck five.  She walked quickly in the
+direction of Sloane Square Railway Station.  Suddenly she slackened her
+speed.  Why was she hurrying home?  She felt herself blushing hotly,
+and became furiously angry as if discovered in some humiliating act.
+Then with one of those odd emotional changes characteristic of her, she
+smiled.
+
+"Patricia Brent," she murmured, "I think a little walk won't do you any
+harm," and she strolled slowly up Sloane Street and across the Park to
+Bayswater.
+
+Her hand trembled as she put the key in the door and opened it.  She
+looked swiftly in the direction of the letter-rack; but her eyes were
+arrested by two boxes, one very large and obviously from a florist.  A
+strange excitement seized her.  "Were they----?"
+
+At that moment Miss Sikkum came out of the lounge simpering.
+
+"Oh, Miss Brent! have you seen your beautiful presents?"
+
+Then Patricia knew, and she became angry with herself on finding how
+extremely happy she was.  Glancing almost indifferently at the labels
+she proceeded to walk upstairs.  Miss Sikkum looked at her in amazement.
+
+"But aren't you going to open them?" she blurted out.
+
+"Oh! presently," said Patricia in an off-hand way, "I had no idea it
+was so late," and she ran upstairs, leaving Miss Sikkum gazing after
+her in petrified astonishment.
+
+That evening Patricia took more than usual pains with her toilette.
+Had she paused to ask herself why, she would have been angry.
+
+When she came downstairs, the other boarders were seated at the table,
+all expectantly awaiting her entrance.  On the table, in the front of
+her chair, were the two boxes.
+
+"I had your presents brought in here, Miss Brent," explained Mrs.
+Craske-Morton.
+
+"Oh!  I had forgotten all about them," said Patricia indifferently, "I
+suppose I had better open them," which she proceeded to do.
+
+The smaller box contained chocolates, as Mr. Bolton put it, "evidently
+bought by the hundred-weight."  The larger of the boxes was filled with
+an enormous spray-bunch of white and red carnations, tied with green
+silk ribbon, and on the top of each box was a card, "With love from
+Peter."
+
+Patricia's cheeks burned.  She was angry, she told herself, yet there
+was a singing in her heart and a light in her eyes that oddly belied
+her.  He had not forgotten!  He had dared to disobey her injunction;
+for, she told herself, "good-bye" clearly forbade the sending of
+flowers and chocolates.  She was unconscious that every eye was upon
+her, and the smile with which she regarded now the flowers, now the
+chocolates, was self-revelatory.
+
+Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe glanced significantly at Miss Wangle, who,
+however, was too occupied in watching Patricia with hawk-like
+intentness to be conscious of anything but the quarry.
+
+Suddenly Patricia remembered, and her face changed.  The flowers faded,
+the chocolates lost their sweetness and the smile vanished.  The parted
+lips set in a firm but mobile line.  What had before been a tribute now
+became in her eyes an insult.  Men sent chocolates and flowers to--to
+"those women"!  If he respected her he would have done as she commanded
+him, instead of which he had sent her presents.  Oh! it was intolerable.
+
+"If I sent flowers and chocolates to a lady friend," said Mr. Bolton,
+"I should expect her to look happier than you do, Miss Brent."
+
+With an effort Patricia gathered herself together and with a forced
+smile replied, "Ah!  Mr. Bolton, but you are different," which seemed
+to please Mr. Bolton mightily.
+
+She was conscious that everyone was looking at her in surprise not
+unmixed with disapproval.  She was aware that her attitude was not the
+conventional pose of the happily-engaged girl.  The situation was
+strange.  Even Mr. Cordal was bestowing upon her a portion of his
+attention.  It is true that he was eating curry with a spoon, which
+required less accuracy than something necessitating a knife and fork;
+still at meal times it was unusual of him to be conscious even of the
+existence of his fellow-boarders.
+
+It was Gustave who relieved the situation by handing to Patricia a
+telegram on the little tray where the silver had long since given up
+the unequal struggle with the base metal beneath.  Patricia with
+assumed indifference laid it beside her plate.
+
+"The boy ees waiting, mees," insinuated Gustave.
+
+Patricia tore open the envelope and read: "May I come and see you this
+evening dont say no peter."
+
+Patricia was conscious of her flushed face and she felt irritated at
+her own weakness.  With a murmured apology to Mrs. Morton she rose from
+the table and went into the lounge where she wrote the reply: "Regret
+impossible remember your promise," then she paused.  She did not want
+to sign her full name, she could not sign her Christian name she
+decided, so she compromised by using initials only, "P.B."  She took
+the telegram to the door herself, knowing that otherwise poor Gustave's
+life would be a misery at the hands of Miss Wangle, Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe and the others.
+
+"Why had she given the boy sixpence?" she asked herself as she slowly
+returned to the dining-room.  Telegraph boys were paid.  It was
+ridiculous to tip them, especially when they brought undesirable
+messages.  "Was the message undesirable?" someone within seemed to
+question.  Of course it was, and she was very angry with Bowen for not
+doing as she had commanded him.
+
+When Patricia returned to the table and proceeded with the meal, she
+was conscious of the atmosphere of expectancy around her.  Everybody
+wanted to know what was in the telegram.
+
+At last Miss Wangle enquired, "No bad news I hope, Miss Brent."
+
+Patricia looked up and fixed Miss Wangle with a deliberate stare, which
+she meant to be rude.
+
+"None, Miss Wangle, thank you," she replied coldly.
+
+The dinner proceeded until the sweet was being served, when Gustave
+approached her once more.
+
+"You are wanted, mees, on the telephone, please," he said.
+
+Patricia was conscious once more of crimsoning as she turned to
+Gustave.  "Please say that I'm engaged," she said.
+
+Gustave left the dining-room.  Everybody watched the door in a fever of
+expectancy.
+
+Two minutes later Gustave reappeared and, walking softly up to
+Patricia's chair, whispered in a voice that could be clearly heard by
+everyone, "It ees Colonel Baun, mees.  He wish to speak to you."
+
+"Tell him I'm at dinner," replied Patricia calmly.  She could literally
+hear the gasp that went round the table.
+
+"But, Miss Brent," began Mrs. Craske-Morton.
+
+Patricia turned and looked straight into Mrs. Craske-Morton's eyes
+interrogatingly.  Gustave hesitated.  Mrs. Craske-Morton collapsed.
+Miss Wangle and Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe exchanged meaning glances.  Little
+Mrs. Hamilton looked concerned, almost a little sad.  Patricia turned
+to Gustave.
+
+"You heard, Gustave?"
+
+"Yes, mees," replied Gustave and, turning reluctantly towards the door,
+he disappeared.
+
+There was something in Patricia's demeanour that made it clear she
+would resent any comment on her action, and the meal continued in
+silence.  Mr. Bolton made some feeble endeavours to lighten the
+atmosphere; but he was not successful.
+
+In the lounge a quarter of an hour later, Gustave once more approached
+Patricia, this time with a note.
+
+"The boy ees waiting, mees," he announced.
+
+Patricia tore open the envelope and read:
+
+
+"DEAR PATRICIA,
+
+"Won't you let me see you?  Please remember that even the under-dog has
+his rights.
+
+"Yours ever,
+  "PETER."
+
+
+"There is no answer, Gustave," said Patricia, and Gustave left the room
+disconsolately.
+
+Half an hour later Gustave returned once more.
+
+On his tray were three telegrams.  Patricia looked about her wildly.
+"Had the man suddenly gone mad?" she asked herself.  "Tell the boy not
+to wait, Gustave," she said.
+
+"There ees three boys, mees."
+
+The atmosphere was electrical.  Mr. Bolton laughed, then stopped
+suddenly.  Miss Sikkum simpered.
+
+Patricia turned to Gustave with a calmness that was not reflected in
+her cheeks.
+
+"Tell the three boys not to wait, Gustave."
+
+"Yes, mees!"  Gustave slowly walked to the door.  It was clear that he
+could not reconcile with his standard of ethics the allowing of three
+telegrams to remain unopened, and to dismiss three boys without knowing
+whether or no there really were replies.  The same feeling was
+reflected in the faces of Patricia's fellow-boarders.
+
+"Miss Brent must be losing a lot of relatives, or coming into a lot of
+fortunes," remarked Mr. Bolton to Mrs. Hamilton.
+
+Patricia preserved an outward calm she was far from feeling.  She rose
+and went up to her room to discover from the three orange envelopes
+what was the latest phase of Colonel Bowen's madness.  Seated on her
+bed she opened the telegrams.
+
+The first read:
+
+"Will you go motoring with me on Sunday peter."
+
+No, she would do nothing of the kind.
+
+The second said:
+
+"If I have done anything to offend you please tell me and forgive me
+peter."
+
+Of course he had done nothing, and it was all very absurd.  Why was he
+behaving like a schoolboy?
+
+The third was longer.  It ran:
+
+"I so enjoyed last night it was the most delightful evening I have
+spent for many a day please do not be too hard upon me peter."
+
+This was a tactical error.  It brought back to Patricia the whole
+incident.  It was utter folly to have placed herself in such an
+impossible position.  Obviously Bowen knew nothing of women, or he
+would not have made such a blunder as to remind her of what took place
+on the previous night, unless--unless----  She hardly dare breathe the
+thought to herself.  What if he thought her different from what she
+actually was?  Could he confuse her with those----  It was impossible!
+
+She was angry; angry with him, angry with herself, angry with the
+Quadrant Grill-room; but angriest of all with Galvin House, which had
+precipitated her into this adventure.
+
+Why did silly women expect every girl to marry?  Why was it assumed
+because a woman did not marry that no one wanted to marry her?
+Patricia regarded herself in the looking-glass.  Was she really the
+sort of girl who might be taken for an inveterate old maid?  Her hands
+and feet were small.  Her ankles well-shaped.  Her figure had been
+praised, even by women.  Her hair was a natural red-auburn.  Her
+features regular, her mouth mobile, well-shaped with very red lips.
+Her eyes a violet-blue with long dark lashes and eyebrows.
+
+"You're not so bad, Patricia Brent," she remarked as she turned from
+the glass.  "But you will probably be a secretary to the end of your
+days, drink cold weak tea, keep a cat and get hard and angular, skinny
+most likely.  You're just the sort that runs to skin and bone."
+
+She was interrupted in her meditations by a knock at the door.
+
+"Come in," she called.
+
+The door was softly opened and Mrs. Hamilton entered.
+
+"May I come in, dear?" she enquired in an apologetic voice, as she
+stood on the threshold.
+
+"Come in!" cried Patricia, "why of course you may, you dear.  You can
+do anything you like with me."
+
+Mrs. Hamilton was small and white and fragile, with a ray of sunlight
+in her soul.  She invariably dressed in grey, or blue-grey.  Everything
+she wore seemed to be as soft as her own expression.
+
+"I--I came up--I--I--hope it is not bad news.  I don't want to meddle
+in your affairs, my dear; but I am concerned.  If there is anything I
+can do, you will tell me, won't you?  You won't think me inquisitive,
+will you?"
+
+"Why you dear, silly little thing, of course I don't.  Still it's just
+like your sweet self to come up and enquire.  It is only that
+ridiculous Colonel Bowen who is showering telegrams on me in this way,
+in order, I suppose, to benefit the revenue.  I think he has gone mad.
+Perhaps it's shell-shock, poor thing.  There will most likely be
+another shower before we go to bed.  Now we will go downstairs and stop
+those old pussies talking."
+
+"My dear!" expostulated Mrs. Hamilton.
+
+Patricia laughed.  "Yes, aren't I getting acid and spinsterish?"
+
+As they walked downstairs Mrs. Hamilton said:
+
+"I'm so anxious to see him, my dear.  Miss Wangle says he is so
+distinguished-looking."
+
+"Who?" enquired Patricia, with mock innocence.
+
+"Colonel Bowen, dear."
+
+"Oh!  Yes, he's quite a decent-looking old thing, and he's given Galvin
+House something to talk about, hasn't he?"
+
+In the lounge Patricia soon became the centre of a group anxious for
+information; but no one was daring enough to put direct questions to
+her.  Mrs. Craske-Morton ventured a suggestion that Colonel Bowen might
+be coming to dine with Patricia, and that she hoped Miss Brent would
+let her know in good time, so that she might make special preparations.
+
+Patricia replied without enthusiasm.  None was better aware than she
+that had her fiance turned out to be a private, Mrs. Craske-Morton
+would have been the last even to suggest that he should dine at Galvin
+House.  There would have been no question of special preparations.
+
+About ten o'clock Gustave entered and approached Patricia.  She groaned
+in spirit.
+
+"You are wanted on the telephone, mees."
+
+Patricia thought she detected a note of reproach in his voice, as if he
+were conscious that a fellow-male was being badly treated.
+
+"Will you say that I'm engaged?" replied Patricia.
+
+"It's Colonel Baun, mees."
+
+For a moment Patricia hesitated.  She was conscious that Galvin House
+was against her to a woman.  After all there were limits beyond which
+it would be unwise to go.  Galvin House had its standards, which had
+already been sorely tried.  Patricia felt rather than heard the
+whispered criticism passing between Miss Wangle and Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe.  Rising slowly with an air of reconciled martyrdom,
+Patricia went to the telephone at the end of the hall, followed by the
+smiling Gustave, who, like the rest of Galvin House, had found his
+sense of decorum sorely outraged by Patricia's conduct.
+
+"Hullo!" cried Patricia into the mouthpiece of the telephone, her heart
+thumping ridiculously.
+
+Gustave walked tactfully away.
+
+"That you, Patricia?" came the reply.
+
+Patricia was conscious that all her anger had vanished.
+
+"Yes, who is speaking?"
+
+"Peter."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"How are you?"
+
+"Did you ring me up to ask after my health?"
+
+There was a laugh at the other end.
+
+"Well!" enquired Patricia, who knew she was behaving like a schoolgirl.
+
+"Did you get my message?"
+
+"I'm very angry."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because you've made me ridiculous with your telegrams, messenger-boys,
+and telephoning."
+
+"May I call?"
+
+"No."
+
+"I'm coming to-morrow night."
+
+"I shall be out."
+
+"Then I'll wait until you return."
+
+"Are you playing the game, do you think?"
+
+"I must see you.  Expect me about nine."
+
+"I shall do nothing of the sort."
+
+"Please don't be angry, Patricia."
+
+"Well! you mustn't come, then.  Thank you for the chocolates and
+flowers."
+
+"That's all right.  Don't forget to-morrow at nine."
+
+"I tell you I shall be out."
+
+"Right-oh!"
+
+"Good-bye!"
+
+Without waiting for a reply, Patricia hung up the receiver.
+
+When she returned to the lounge her cheeks were flushed, and she was
+feeling absurdly happy.  Then a moment after she asked herself what it
+was to her whether he remembered or forgot her.  He was an entire
+stranger--or at least he ought to be.
+
+Just as she was going up to her room for the night, another telegram
+arrived.  It contained three words: "Good night peter."
+
+"Of all the ridiculous creatures!" she murmured, laughing in spite of
+herself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+PATRICIA'S REVENGE
+
+Galvin House dined at seven-thirty.  Miss Wangle had used all her arts
+in an endeavour to have the hour altered to eight-fifteen, or
+eight-thirty.  "It would add tone to the establishment," she had
+explained to Mrs. Craske-Morton.  "It is dreadfully suburban to dine at
+half-past seven."  Conscious of the views of the other guests, Mrs.
+Craske-Morton had held out, necessitating the bringing up of Miss
+Wangle's heavy artillery, the bishop, whose actual views Miss Wangle
+shrouded in a mist of words.  As far as could be gathered, the
+illustrious prelate held out very little hope of salvation for anyone
+who dined earlier than eight-thirty.
+
+Just as Mrs. Craske-Morton was wavering, Mr. Bolton had floored Miss
+Wangle and her ecclesiastical relic with the simple question, "And
+who'll pay for the biscuits I shall have to eat to keep going until
+half-past eight?"
+
+That had clinched the matter.  Galvin House continued to dine at the
+unfashionable hour of seven-thirty.  Miss Wangle had resigned herself
+to the inevitable, conscious that she had done her utmost for the
+social salvation of her fellow-guests, and mentally reproaching
+Providence for casting her lot with the Cordals and the Boltons, rather
+than with the De Veres and the Montmorencies.
+
+Mr. Bolton confided to his fellow-boarders what he conceived to be the
+real cause of Mrs. Craske-Morton's decision.
+
+"She's afraid of what Miss Wangle would eat if left unfed for an extra
+hour," he had said.
+
+Miss Wangle's appetite was like Dominie Sampson's favourite adjective,
+"prodigious."
+
+So it came about that on the Friday evening on which Colonel Peter
+Bowen had announced his intention of calling on Patricia, Galvin House,
+all unconscious of the event, sat down to its evening meal at its usual
+time, in its usual coats and blouses, with its usual vacuous smiles and
+small talk, and above all with its usual appetite--an appetite that had
+caused Mrs. Craske-Morton to bless the inauguration of food-control,
+and to pray devoutly to Providence for food-tickets.
+
+Had anyone suggested to Patricia that she had dressed with more than
+usual care that evening, she would have denied it, she might even have
+been annoyed.  Her simple evening frock of black voile, unrelieved by
+any colour save a ribbon of St. Patrick's green that bound her hair,
+showed up the paleness of her skin and the redness of her lips.  At the
+last moment, as if under protest, she had pinned some of Bowen's
+carnations in her belt.
+
+As she entered the dining-room, Miss Wangle and Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe
+exchanged significant glances.  Woman-like they sensed something
+unusual.  Galvin House did not usually dress for dinner.
+
+"Going out?" enquired Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe sweetly.
+
+"Probably," was Patricia's laconic reply.
+
+Soup had not been disposed of (it was soup on Mondays, Wednesdays, and
+Fridays; fish on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, and neither on
+Sundays at Galvin House) before Gustave entered with an enormous
+bouquet of crimson carnations.  It might almost be said that the
+carnations entered propelled by Gustave, as there was very little but
+Gustave's smiling face above and the ends of his legs below the screen
+of flowers.  Instinctively everybody looked at Patricia.
+
+"For you, mees, with Colonel Baun's compliments."
+
+Gustave stood irresolute, the crimson blooms cascading before him.
+
+"You've forgotten the conservatory, Gustave," laughed Mr. Bolton.  It
+was always easy to identify the facetious from the serious Mr. Bolton;
+his jokes were always heralded by a laugh.
+
+"Sir?" interrogated the literal-minded Gustave.
+
+"Never mind, Gustave.  Mr. Bolton was joking," said Mrs. Craske-Morton.
+
+"Yes, madame."  Gustave smiled a mechanical smile: he overflowed with
+tact.
+
+"Where will you have the flowers, Miss Brent?" enquired Mrs.
+Craske-Morton.  "They are exquisite."
+
+"Try the bath," suggested Mr. Bolton.
+
+"Sir?" from Gustave.
+
+It was Alice, Gustave's assistant in the dining-room during meals, who
+created the diversion for which Patricia had been devoutly praying.  An
+affected little laugh from Miss Sikkum called attention to Alice,
+standing just inside the door, with an enormous white and gold box tied
+with bright green ribbon.
+
+Patricia regarded the girl in dismay.
+
+"Put them in the lounge, please," she said.
+
+"You are lucky, Miss Brent," giggled Miss Sikkum enviously.  "I wonder
+what's in the box."
+
+"A chest protector," Mr. Bolton's laugh rang out.
+
+"Really, Mr. Bolton!" from Mrs. Craske-Morton.
+
+Patricia wondered was she lucky?  Why should she be made ridiculous in
+this fashion?
+
+"I should say chocolates."  The suggestion came from Mr. Cordal through
+a mouthful of roast beef and Brussels sprouts.  Everyone turned to the
+speaker, whose gastronomic silence was one of the most cherished
+traditions of Galvin House.
+
+"He must have plenty of money," remarked Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe to Miss
+Wangle in a whisper, audible to all.  "Those flowers and chocolates
+must have cost a lot."
+
+"Ten pounds."  The remark met a large Brussels sprout that Mr. Cordal
+was conveying to his mouth and summarily ejected it.
+
+As Mr. Cordal was something on the Stock Exchange (Mr. Bolton had once
+said he must be a "bear") he was, at Galvin House, the recognised
+authority upon all matters of finance.
+
+"Really, Mr. Cordal!" expostulated Mrs. Craske-Morton, rather outraged
+at this open discussion of Patricia's affairs.
+
+"Sure of it," was all Mr. Cordal vouchsafed as he shovelled in another
+mouthful.
+
+"You've been a goer in your time, Mr. Cordal," said Mr. Bolton.
+
+Mr. Cordal grunted, which may have meant anything, but in all
+probability meant nothing.
+
+For a quarter of an hour the inane conversation so characteristic of
+meal-times at Galvin House continued without interruption.  How
+Patricia hated it.  Was this all that life held for her?  Was she
+always to be a drudge to the Bonsors, a victim of the Wangles and a
+target for the Boltons of life?  It was to escape such drab existences
+that girls went on the stage, or worse; and why not?  She had only one
+life, so far as she knew, and here she was sacrificing it to the jungle
+people, as she called them.  Was there no escape?  What St. George
+would rescue her from this dragon of----?
+
+"Colonel Baun, mees."
+
+Patricia looked up with a start from the apple tart with which she was
+trifling.  Gustave stood beside her, his face glowing in a way that
+hinted at a handsome tip.  He was all-unconscious that he had answered
+a very difficult question in a manner entirely unsatisfactory to
+Patricia.
+
+"I haf show him in the looaunge, mees.  He will wait."
+
+Patricia believed him.  Was ever man so persistent?  She saw through
+the move.  He had come an hour earlier to be sure of catching her
+before she went out.  Patricia was once more conscious of the
+ridiculous behaviour of her heart.  It thumped and pounded against her
+ribs as if determined to compromise her with the rest of the boarders.
+
+"Very well, Gustave, say we are at dinner."
+
+"Yes, mees," and Gustave proceeded with his duties.
+
+"He's clever," was Patricia's inward comment.  "He's bought Gustave,
+and in an hour he'll have the whole blessed place against me."
+
+If the effect upon Patricia of Gustave's announcement had been
+startling, that upon the rest of the company was galvanic.  Each felt
+aggrieved that proper notice had not been given of so auspicious an
+event.  There was a general feeling of resentment against Patricia for
+not having told them that she expected Bowen to call.
+
+There were covert glances at their garments by the ladies, and among
+the men a consciousness that the clothes they were wearing were not
+those they had upstairs.
+
+Miss Sikkum's playful fancy was with the Brixton "Paris model," which
+only that day she had taken to the cleaners; Miss Wangle was conscious
+that she had not hung herself with her full equipment of chains and
+accoutrements; Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe thought regretfully of the pale
+blue evening-gown upstairs, a garment that had followed the course of
+fashion for nearly a quarter of a century.  Mr. Bolton had doubts about
+his collar and his boots, whilst Mr. Cordal, with the aid of his napkin
+and some water from a drinking glass, strove to remove from his
+waistcoat reminiscences of bygone repasts.
+
+The other members of the company all had something to regret.  Mr.
+Archibald Sefton, whose occupation was a secret between himself and
+Providence, was dubious about the creases in his trousers; Mrs. Barnes
+wondered if the gallant colonel would discover the ink she had that day
+applied to the seams of her dress.  Everyone was constrained and
+anxious to get to his or to her room for repairs.
+
+"Did you know Colonel Bowen was coming?" enquired Mrs. Craske-Morton,
+quite at her ease in the knowledge that "something had told her" to put
+on her best black silk and the large cameo pendant that made her look
+like a wine-steward at a fashionable restaurant.
+
+"He said he might drop in; but he's so casual that I didn't think it
+worth mentioning," said Patricia, conscious that the reply was
+unanimously regarded as unconvincing.
+
+Having finished her coffee Patricia rose in a leisurely manner.  She
+was no sooner out of the door than a veritable stampede ensued.  Every
+one intended "just to slip upstairs for a moment," and each glared at
+the other on discovering that all seemed inspired by the same idea.
+
+Mrs. Craske-Morton went to her "boudoir" out of tactful consideration
+for the young lovers; Mrs. Hamilton went up to the drawing-room for the
+same reason.
+
+Patricia paused for a moment outside the door of the lounge.  She put
+her cool hands to her hot cheeks, wondering why her heart should show
+so little regard for her feelings.  She felt an impulse to run away and
+lock herself in her own room and cry "Go away!" to anyone who might
+knock.  She strove to work herself into a state of anger with Bowen for
+daring to come an hour before the time appointed.
+
+As she entered the lounge, Bowen sprang up and came towards her.  There
+was a spirit of boyish mischief lurking in his eyes.
+
+"I suppose," said Patricia as they shook hands, "you think this is very
+clever."
+
+"Please, Patricia, don't bully me."
+
+Patricia laughed in spite of herself at the humility and appeal in his
+voice.  She was conscious that she was not behaving as she ought, or
+had intended to behave.
+
+"It seems an age since I saw you," he continued.
+
+"Forty-eight hours, to be exact," commented Patricia, forgetful of all
+the reproachful things she had intended to say.
+
+"You got the flowers?" as his eye fell on the carnations which Gustave
+had placed in a large bowl.
+
+"Yes, thank you very much indeed, they're exquisite.  They made Miss
+Sikkum quite envious."
+
+"Who's Miss Sikkum?"
+
+"Time, in all probability, will show," replied Patricia, seating
+herself on a settee.  Bowen drew up a chair and sat opposite to her.
+She liked him for that.  Had he sat beside her, she told herself, she
+would have hated him.
+
+"You're not angry with me, Patricia, are you?"  There was an anxious
+note in his voice.
+
+"Do you appreciate that you've made me extremely ridiculous with your
+telegrams, messenger-boys, conservatories, and confectioner's-shops?
+Why did you do it?"
+
+"I don't know," he confessed with unconscious gaucherie, "I simply
+couldn't get you out of my thoughts."
+
+"Which shows that you tried," commented Patricia, the lightness of her
+words contradicted by the blush that accompanied them.
+
+"The King's Regulations do not provide for Patricias," he replied, "and
+I had to try.  That is how I knew."
+
+"Do you think I'm a cormorant, as well as an abandoned person?" she
+demanded.
+
+"A cormorant?" queried Bowen, ignoring the second question.  "I don't
+understand."
+
+"Within twenty-four hours you have sent me enough chocolates to last
+for a couple of months."
+
+"Poor Patricia!" he laughed.
+
+"You mustn't call me Patricia, Colonel Bowen," she said primly.  "What
+will people think?"
+
+"What would they think if they heard the man you're engaged to call you
+Miss Brent?"
+
+"We are not engaged," said Patricia hotly.
+
+"We are," his eyes smiled into hers.  "I can bring all these people
+here to prove it on your own statement."
+
+She bit her Up.  "Are you going to be mean?  Are you going to play the
+game?"  She awaited his reply with an anxiety she strove to disguise.
+
+Bowen looked straight into her eyes until they fell beneath his gaze.
+
+"I'm afraid I've got to be mean, Patricia," he said quietly.  "May we
+smoke?"
+
+As she took a cigarette from his case and he lighted it for her,
+Patricia found herself experiencing a new sensation.  Without apparent
+effort he had assumed control of the situation, and then with a
+masterfulness that she felt rather than acknowledged, had put the
+subject aside as if requiring no further comment.  This was a side of
+Bowen's character that she had not yet seen.  As she was debating with
+herself whether or no she liked it, the door opened, giving access to a
+stream of Galvin Houseites.
+
+"Oh!" gasped Patricia hysterically, "they're all dressed up, and it's
+in your honour."
+
+"What's that?" enquired Bowen, less mentally agile than Patricia, as he
+turned round to gaze at the string of paying guests that oozed into the
+room.
+
+"They've put on their best bibs and tuckers for you," she cried.  "Oh!
+please don't even smile, _ple-e-e-ase_!"
+
+The first to enter was Miss Wangle.  Although she had not changed her
+dress, it was obvious that she had taken considerable pains with her
+personal appearance.  On her fingers were more than the usual weight of
+rings; round her neck were flung a few additional chains; on her arms
+hung an extra bracelet or two and, as a final touch, she had added a
+fan to her equipment.  To Patricia's keen eyes it was clear that she
+had re-done her hair, and she carried her lorgnettes, things that in
+themselves betokened a ceremonial occasion.
+
+Following Miss Wangle like an echo came Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe.  She had
+evidently taken her courage in both hands and donned the blue evening
+frock, to which she had added a pair of white gloves which reached
+barely to the elbow, although the frock ended just below her shoulders.
+
+Miss Wangle bowed graciously to Patricia, Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe followed
+suit.  They moved over to the extreme end of the room.  Mr. Cordal was
+the next arrival, closely followed by Mr. Bolton.  At the sight of Mr.
+Cordal Patricia started and bit her lower lip.  He had assumed a vivid
+blue tie, and had obviously changed his collar.  From the darker spots
+on his waistcoat and coat it was evident that he had subjected his
+clothes to a vigorous process of cleaning.
+
+Mr. Bolton, on the other hand, had followed Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe's
+lead, and made a clean sweep.  He had assumed a black frock-coat; but
+had apparently not thought it worth while to change his brown tweed
+trousers, which hung about his boots in shapeless folds, as if
+conscious that they had no right there.  He, too, had donned a clean
+collar and, by way of adding to his splendour, had assumed a white
+satin necktie threaded through a "diamond" ring.  His thin dark hair
+was generously oiled and, as he passed over to the side of the room
+occupied by Miss Wangle and Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe, he left behind him a
+strong odour of verbena.
+
+Mrs. Barnes came next and, one by one, the other guests drifted in.
+All had assumed something in the nature of a wedding garment in honour
+of Patricia's fiance.  Miss Sikkum had selected a pea-green satin
+blouse, which caused Bowen to screw his eyeglass vigorously into his
+eye and gaze at her in wonder.
+
+"Do you like them?" It was Patricia who broke the silence.
+
+With a start Bowen turned to her.  "Er--er--they seem an er--awfully
+decent crowd."
+
+Patricia laughed.  "Yes, aren't they?  Dreadfully decent.  How would
+you like to live among them all?  Why they haven't the pluck to break a
+commandment among them."
+
+Bowen looked at Patricia in surprise.  "Really!" was the only remark he
+could think of.
+
+"And now I've shocked you!" cried Patricia.  "You must not think that I
+like people who break commandments.  I don't know exactly what I do
+mean.  Oh, here you are!" and she ran across as Mrs. Hamilton entered
+and drew her towards Bowen.  "Now I know what I meant.  This dear
+little creature has never broken a commandment, I wouldn't mind betting
+everything I have, and she has never been uncharitable to anyone who
+has.  Isn't that so?"  She turned to Mrs. Hamilton, who was regarding
+her in astonishment.  "Oh, I'm so sorry!  I'm quite mad to-night, you
+mustn't mind.  You see Colonel Bowen's mad and he makes me mad."
+
+Turning to Bowen she introduced him to Mrs. Hamilton.  "This is my
+friend, Mrs. Hamilton." Then to Mrs. Hamilton.  "You know all about
+Colonel Bowen, don't you, dear?  He's the man who sends me
+conservatories and telegrams and boy-messengers and things."
+
+Mrs. Hamilton smiled up sweetly at Bowen, and held out her hand.
+
+Patricia glanced across at the group at the other end of the lounge.
+The scene reminded her of Napoleon on the _Bellerophon_.
+
+Suddenly she had an idea.  It synchronised with the entry of Gustave,
+who stood just inside the door smiling inanely.
+
+"Call a taxi for Colonel Bowen, please, Gustave," she said coolly.
+
+Gustave looked surprised, the group looked disappointed, Bowen looked
+at Patricia with a puzzled expression.
+
+"I'm sorry you're in a hurry," said Patricia, holding out her hand to
+Bowen.  "I'm busy also."
+
+"But----" began Bowen.
+
+"Oh! don't trouble."  Patricia advanced, and he had perforce to retreat
+towards the door.  "See you again sometime.  Good-bye," and Bowen found
+himself in the hall.
+
+"Damn!" he muttered.
+
+"Sir?" interrogated Gustave anxiously.
+
+As Bowen was replying to Gustave in coin, Mrs. Craske-Morton appeared
+at the head of the stairs on her way down to the lounge after her
+tactful absence.  For a moment she hesitated in obvious surprise, then,
+with the air of a would-be traveller who hears the guard's whistle, she
+threw dignity aside and made for Bowen.
+
+"Colonel Bowen?" she interrogated anxiously.
+
+Bowen turned and bowed.
+
+"I am Mrs. Craske-Morton.  Miss Brent did not tell me that you were
+making so short a call, or I would----"  Mrs. Craske-Morton's pause
+implied that nothing would have prevented her from hurrying down.
+
+"You are very kind," murmured Bowen absently, not yet recovered from
+his unceremonious dismissal.  He was brought back to realities by Mrs.
+Craske-Morton expressing a hope that he would give her the pleasure of
+dining at Galvin House one evening.  "Shall we say Friday?" she
+continued without allowing Bowen time to reply, "and we will keep it as
+a delightful surprise for Miss Brent."  Mrs. Craske-Morton exposed her
+teeth and felt romantic.
+
+When Bowen left Galvin House that evening he was pledged to give
+Patricia "a delightful surprise" on the following Friday.
+
+
+"That will teach them to pity me!" murmured Patricia that night as she
+brushed her hair with what seemed entirely unnecessary vigour.  She was
+conscious that she was the best-hated girl in Bayswater, as she
+recalled the angry and reproachful looks directed towards her by her
+fellow-guests after Bowen's departure.
+
+In an adjoining room Miss Wangle, a black cap upon her head, was also
+engaged in brushing her hair with a gentleness foreign to most of her
+actions.
+
+"The cat!" she murmured as she lay it in its drawer, and then as she
+locked the drawer she repeated, "The cat!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE INTERVENTION OF AUNT ADELAIDE
+
+Sunday at Galvin House was a day of bodily rest but acute mental
+activity.  The day of God seemed to draw out the worst in everybody;
+all were in their best clothes and on their worst behaviour.  Mr.
+Cordal descended to breakfast in carpet slippers with fur tops.  Miss
+Wangle regarded this as a mark of disrespect towards the grand-niece of
+a bishop.  She would glare at Mr. Cordal's slippers as if convinced
+that the cloven hoof were inside.
+
+Mr. Bolton sported a velvet smoking-jacket, white at the elbows, light
+grey trousers and a manner that seemed to say, "Ha! here's Sunday
+again, good!"  After breakfast he added a fez and a British cigar to
+his equipment, and retired to the lounge to read _Lloyd's News_.  Both
+the cigar and the newspaper lasted him throughout the day.  Somewhere
+at the back of his mind was the conviction that in smoking a cigar,
+which he disliked, he was making a fitting distinction between the
+Sabbath and week-days.  He went even further, for whereas on secular
+days he lit his inexpensive cigarettes with matches, on the Sabbath he
+used only fusees.
+
+"I love the smell of fusees," Miss Sikkum would simper, regardless of
+the fact that a hundred times before she had taken Galvin House into
+her confidence on the subject.  "I think they're so romantic."
+
+Patricia wondered if Mr. Bolton's fusee were an offering to heaven or
+to Miss Sikkum.
+
+On Sunday mornings Miss Wangle and Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe went to divine
+service at Westminster Abbey, and Mr. Cordal went to sleep in the
+lounge.
+
+Mrs. Barnes wandered aimlessly about, making anxious enquiry of
+everyone she encountered.  If it were cloudy, did they think it would
+rain?  If it rained, did they think it would clear up?  If it were
+fine, did they think it would last?  Mrs. Barnes was always going to do
+something that was contingent upon the weather.  Every Sunday she was
+going for a walk in the Park, or to church; but her constitutional
+indecision of character intervened.
+
+Mr. Archibald Sefton, who showed the qualities of a landscape gardener
+in the way in which he arranged his thin fair hair to disguise the
+desert of baldness beneath, was always vigorous on Sundays.  He
+descended to the dining-room rubbing his hands in a manner suggestive
+of a Dickens Christmas.  After breakfast he walked in the Park, "to
+give the girls a treat," as Mr. Bolton had once expressed it, which had
+earned for him a stern rebuke from Miss Wangle.  In the afternoon Mr.
+Sefton returned to the Park, and in the evening yet again.
+
+Mr. Sefton had a secret that was slowly producing in him misanthropy.
+His nature was tropical and his courage arctic, which, coupled with his
+forty-five years, was a great obstacle to his happiness.  In dress he
+was a dandy, at heart he was a craven and, never daring, he was
+consumed with his own fire.
+
+The other guests at Galvin House drifted in and out, said the same
+things, wore the same clothes, with occasional additions, had the same
+thoughts; whilst over all, as if to compose the picture, brooded the
+reek of cooking.
+
+The atmosphere of Galvin House was English, the cooking was English,
+and the lack of culinary imagination also was English.  There were two
+and a half menus for the one o'clock Sunday dinner.  Roast mutton,
+onion sauce, cabbage, potatoes, fruit pie, and custard; alternated for
+four weeks with roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, cauliflower, roast
+potatoes, and lemon pudding.  Then came roast pork, apple sauce,
+potatoes, greens with stewed fruit and cheese afterwards.
+
+The cuisine was in itself a calendar.  If your first Sunday were a
+roast-pork Sunday, you knew without mental effort on every roast-pork
+Sunday exactly how many months you had been there.  If for a moment you
+had forgotten the day, and found yourself toying with a herring at
+dinner, you knew it was a Tuesday, just as you knew it was Friday from
+the Scotch broth placed before you.
+
+Nobody seemed to mind the dreary reiteration, because everybody was so
+occupied in keeping up appearances.  Sunday was the day of reckoning
+and retrospection.  "Were they getting full value for their money?" was
+the unuttered question.  There were whisperings and grumblings,
+sometimes complaints.  Then there was another aspect.  Each guest had
+to enquire if the expenditure were justified by income.  All these
+things, like the weekly mending, were kept for Sundays.
+
+By tea-time the atmosphere was one of unrest.  Mr. Sefton returned from
+the Park disappointed, Miss Sikkum from Sunday-school, breathless from
+her flight before some alleged admirer, Patricia from her walk,
+conscious of a dissatisfaction she could not define.  Mr. Cordal awoke
+unrefreshed, Mrs. Craske-Morton emerged from her "boudoir," where she
+balanced the week's accounts, convinced that ruin stared her in the
+face owing to the tonic qualities of Bayswater air, and Mr. Bolton
+emerged from _Lloyd's News_ facetious.  Miss Wangle was acid, Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe ultra-forbearing, whilst Mrs. Barnes found it
+impossible to decide between a heart-cake and a rusk.  Only Mrs.
+Hamilton, at work upon her inevitable knitting, seemed human and
+content.
+
+On returning to Galvin House Patricia had formed a habit of
+instinctively casting her eyes in the direction of the letter-rack,
+beneath which was the table on which parcels were placed that they
+might be picked up as the various guests entered on their way to their
+rooms.  She took herself severely to task for this weakness, but in
+spite of her best efforts, her eyes would wander towards the table and
+letter-rack.  At last she had to take stern measures with herself and
+deliberately walk along the hall with her face turned to the left, that
+is to the side opposite from that of the letter-rack table.
+
+On the Sunday afternoon following her adventure at the Quadrant
+Grill-room, Patricia entered Galvin House, her head resolutely turned
+to the left, and ran into Gustave.
+
+"Oh, mees!" he exclaimed, his gentle, cow-like face expressing pained
+surprise, rather than indignation.
+
+Gustave was a Swiss, a French-Swiss, he was emphatic on this point.
+Patricia said he was Swiss wherever he wasn't French, and German
+wherever he wasn't Swiss and French.
+
+"I am so sorry, Gustave," apologised Patricia.  "I wasn't looking where
+I was going."
+
+Gustave smiled amiably, Patricia was a great favourite of his.  "There
+is a lady in the looaunge, Mees Brent, the same as you."  Gustave
+smiled broadly as if he had discovered some subtle joke in the
+duplication of Patricia's name.
+
+"Oh, bother!" muttered Patricia to herself.  "Aunt Adelaide, imagine
+Aunt Adelaide on an afternoon like this."
+
+She entered the lounge wearily, to find Miss Brent the centre of a
+group, the foremost in which were Mrs. Craske-Morton, Miss Wangle, and
+Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe.  Patricia groaned in spirit; she knew exactly
+what had been taking place, and now she would have to explain
+everything.  Could she explain?  Had she for one moment paused to think
+of Aunt Adelaide, no amount of frenzy or excitement would have prompted
+her to such an adventure.  Miss Brent would probe the mystery out of a
+ghost.  Material, practical, levelheaded, victorious, she would strip
+romance from a legend, or glamour from a myth.
+
+As she entered the lounge, Patricia saw by the movement of Miss
+Wangle's lips that she was saying "Ah! here she is."  Miss Brent turned
+and regarded her niece with a long, non-committal stare.  Patricia
+walked over to her.
+
+"Hullo, Aunt Adelaide!  Who would have thought of seeing you here."
+
+Miss Brent looked up at her, received the frigid kiss upon one cheek
+and returned it upon the other.
+
+"A peck for a peck," muttered Patricia to herself under her breath.
+
+"We've been talking about you," said Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe
+ingratiatingly.
+
+"How strange," announced Patricia indifferently.  "Well, Aunt
+Adelaide," she continued, turning to Miss Brent, "this is an unexpected
+pleasure.  How is it you are dissipating in town?"
+
+"I want to speak to you, Patricia.  Is there a quiet corner where we
+shall not be overheard?"
+
+Miss Wangle started, Mrs. Craske-Morton rose hurriedly and made for the
+door.  Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe looked uncomfortable.  Miss Brent's
+directness was a thing dreaded by all who knew her.
+
+"You had better come up to my room, Aunt Adelaide," said Patricia.
+
+As she reached the door, Mrs. Craske-Morton turned.  "Oh!  Miss Brent,"
+she said, addressing Patricia, "would you not like to take your aunt
+into my boudoir?  It is entirely at your disposal."
+
+Mrs. Craske-Morton's "boudoir" was a small cupboard-like apartment in
+which she made up her accounts.  It was as much like a boudoir as a
+starveling mongrel is like an aristocratic chow.  Patricia smiled her
+thanks.  One of Patricia's great points was that she could smile an
+acknowledgment in a way that was little less than inspiration.
+
+When they reached the "boudoir," Miss Brent sat down with a suddenness
+and an air of aggression that left Patricia in no doubt as to the
+nature of the talk she desired to have with her.
+
+Miss Brent was a tall, angular woman, with spinster shouting from every
+angle of her uncomely person.  No matter what the fashion, she seemed
+to wear her clothes all bunched up about her hips.  Her hair was
+dragged to the back of her head, and crowned by a hat known in the dim
+recesses of the Victorian past as a "boater."  A veil clawed what
+remained of the hair and hat towards the rear, and accentuated the
+sharpness of her nose and the fleshlessness of her cheeks.  Miss Brent
+looked like nothing so much as an aged hawk in whom the lust to prey
+still lingered, without the power of making the physical effort to
+capture it.
+
+"Patricia," she demanded, "what is all this I hear?"
+
+"If you've been talking to Miss Wangle and Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe, Aunt
+Adelaide, heaven only knows what you've heard," replied Patricia calmly.
+
+"Patricia."  Miss Brent invariably began her remarks by uttering the
+name of the person whom she addressed.  "Patricia, you know perfectly
+well what I mean."
+
+"I should know better, if you would tell me," murmured Patricia with a
+patient sigh as she seated herself in the easiest of the uneasy chairs,
+and proceeded to pull off her gloves.
+
+"Patricia, I refer to these stories about your being engaged."
+
+"Yes, Aunt Adelaide?"
+
+"Have you nothing to say?"
+
+"Nothing in particular.  People get engaged, you know.  I suppose it is
+because they've got nothing else to do."
+
+"Patricia, don't be frivolous."
+
+"Frivolous!  Me frivolous!  Aunt Adelaide!  If you were a secretary to
+a brainless politician, who is supposed to rise, but who won't rise,
+can't rise, and never will rise, from ten until five each day, for the
+magnificent salary of two and a half guineas a week, even you wouldn't
+be able to be frivolous."
+
+"Patricia!"  There was surprised disapproval in Miss Brent's voice.
+"Are you mad?"
+
+"No, Aunt Adelaide, just bored, just bored stiff."  Patricia emphasised
+the word "stiff" in a way that brought Miss Brent into an even more
+upright position.
+
+"Patricia, I wish you would change your idiom.  Your flagrant vulgarity
+would have deeply pained your poor, dear father."
+
+Patricia made no response; she simply looked as she felt, unutterably
+bored.  She was incapable even of invention.  Supposing she told her
+aunt the whole story, at least she would have the joy of seeing the
+look of horror that would overspread her features.
+
+"Patricia," continued Miss Brent, "I repeat, what is this I hear about
+your being engaged?"
+
+"Oh!" replied Patricia indifferently, "I suppose you've heard the
+truth; I've got engaged."
+
+"Without telling me a word about it."
+
+"Oh, well! those are nasty things, you know, that one doesn't
+advertise."
+
+"Patricia!"
+
+"Well, aunt, you say that all men are beasts, and if you associate with
+beasts, you don't like the world to know about it."
+
+"Patricia!" repeated Miss Brent.
+
+"Aunt Adelaide!" cried Patricia, "you make me feel that I absolutely
+hate my name.  I wish I'd been numbered.  If you say 'Patricia' again I
+shall scream."
+
+"Is it true that you are engaged to Lord Peter Bowen?"
+
+"Good Lord, no."  Patricia sat up in astonishment.
+
+"Then that woman in the lounge is a liar."
+
+There was uncompromising conviction in Miss Brent's tone.
+
+Patricia leaned forward and smiled.  "Aunt Adelaide, you are singularly
+discriminating to-day.  She is a liar, and she also happens to be a
+cat."
+
+Miss Brent appeared not to hear Patricia's remark.  She was occupied
+with her own thoughts.  She possessed a masculine habit of thinking
+before she spoke, and in consequence she was as devoid of impulse and
+spontaneity as a snail.
+
+Patricia watched her aunt covertly, her mind working furiously.  What
+could it mean?  Lord Peter Bowen!  Miss Wangle was not given to making
+mistakes in which the aristocracy were concerned.  At Galvin House she
+was the recognised authority upon anything and everything concerned
+with royalty and the titled and landed gentry.  County families were
+her hobbies and the peerage her obsession.  It would be just like
+Peter, thought Patricia, to turn out a lord, just the ridiculous,
+inconsequent sort of thing he would delight in.  She was unconscious of
+any incongruity in thinking of him as Peter.  It seemed the natural
+thing to do.
+
+She saw by the signs on her aunt's face that she was nearing a
+decision.  Conscious that she must not burn her boats, Patricia burst
+in upon Miss Brent's thoughts with a suddenness that startled her.
+
+"If Miss Wangle desires to discuss my friends with you in future, Aunt
+Adelaide, I think she should adopt the names by which they prefer to be
+known."
+
+Patricia watched the surprised look upon her aunt's face, and with
+dignity met the keen hawk-like glance that flashed from her eyes.
+
+"If, for reasons of his own," continued Patricia, "a man chooses to
+drop his title in favour of his rank in the army, that I think is a
+matter for him to decide, and not one that requires discussion at Miss
+Wangle's hands."
+
+Miss Brent's stare convinced Patricia that she was carrying things off
+rather well.
+
+"Patricia, where did you meet this Colonel Peter Bowen?"
+
+The question came like a thunder-clap to Patricia's unprepared ears.
+All her self-complacency of a moment before now deserted her.
+
+She felt her face crimsoning.  How she envied girls who did not blush.
+What on earth could she tell her aunt?  Why had an undiscriminating
+Providence given her an Aunt Adelaide at all?  Why had it not bestowed
+this inestimable treasure upon someone more deserving?  What could she
+say?  As well think of lying to Rhadamanthus as to Miss Brent.  Then
+Patricia had an inspiration.  She would tell her aunt the truth,
+trusting to her not to believe it.
+
+"Where did I meet him, Aunt Adelaide?" she remarked indifferently.
+"Oh!  I picked him up in a restaurant; he looked nice."
+
+"Patricia, how dare you say such a thing before me."  A slight flush
+mantled Miss Brent's sallow cheeks.  All the proprieties, all the
+chastities and all the moralities banked up behind her in moral support.
+
+"You ought to feel ashamed of yourself, Patricia.  London has done you
+no good.  What would your poor dear father have said?"
+
+"I'm sorry, Aunt Adelaide; but please remember I've had a very tiring
+week, trying to leaven an unleavenable politician.  Shall we drop the
+subject of Colonel Bowen for the time being?"
+
+"Certainly not," snapped Miss Brent.  "It is my duty as your sole
+surviving relative," how Patricia deplored that word "surviving," why
+had her Aunt Adelaide survived?  "As your sole surviving relative,"
+repeated Miss Brent, "it is my duty to look after your welfare."
+
+"But," protested Patricia, "I'm nearly twenty-five, and I am quite able
+to look after myself."
+
+"Patricia, it is my duty to look after you."  Miss Brent spoke as if
+she were about to walk over heated ploughshares rather than to satisfy
+a natural curiosity.
+
+"I repeat," proceeded Miss Brent, "where did you meet Colonel Bowen?"
+
+"I have told you, Aunt Adelaide, but you won't believe me."
+
+"I want to know the truth, Patricia.  Is he really Lord Peter?"
+persisted Miss Brent.
+
+"To be quite candid, I've never asked him," replied Patricia.
+
+Miss Brent stared at her niece.  The obviously feminine thing was to
+express surprise; but Miss Brent never did the obvious thing.  Instead
+of repeating, "Never asked him!" she remained silent for some moments
+while Patricia, with great intentness, proceeded to jerk her gloves
+into shape.
+
+"Patricia, you are mad!"  Miss Brent spoke with conviction.
+
+Patricia glanced up from her occupation and smiled at her aunt as if
+entirely sharing her conviction.
+
+"It's the price of spinsterhood with some women," was all she said.
+
+Miss Brent glared at her; but there was more than a spice of curiosity
+in her look.
+
+"Then you decline to tell me?" she enquired.  There was in her voice a
+note that told of a mind made up.
+
+Patricia knew from past experience that her aunt had made up her mind
+as to her course of action.
+
+"Tell you what?" she enquired innocently.
+
+"Whether or no the Colonel Bowen you are engaged to is Lord Peter
+Bowen."
+
+Patricia determined to temporise in order to gain time.  She knew Aunt
+Adelaide to be capable of anything, even to calling upon Lord Peter
+Bowen's family and enquiring if it were he to whom her niece was
+engaged.  She was too bewildered to know how to act.  It would be so
+like this absurd person to turn out to be a lord and make her still
+more ridiculous.  If he were Lord Peter, why on earth had he not told
+her?  Had he thought she would be dazzled?
+
+Suddenly there flashed into Patricia's mind an explanation which caused
+her cheeks to flame and her eyes to flash.  She strove to put the idea
+aside as unworthy of him; but it refused to leave her.  She had heard
+of men giving false names to girls they met--in the way she and Bowen
+had met.  He had, then, in spite of his protestations, mistaken her.
+In all probability he was not staying at the Quadrant at all.  What a
+fool she had been.  She had told all about herself, whereas he had told
+her nothing beyond the fact that his name was Peter Bowen.  Oh, it was
+intolerable, humiliating!
+
+The worst of it was that she seemed unable to extricate herself from
+the ever-increasing tangle arising out of her folly.  Miss Wangle and
+Galvin House had been sufficiently serious factors, requiring all her
+watchfulness to circumvent them; but now Aunt Adelaide had thrown
+herself precipitately into the melee, and heaven alone knew what would
+be the outcome!
+
+Had her aunt been a man or merely a woman, Patricia argued, she would
+not have been so dangerous; but she possessed the deliberate logic of
+the one and the quickness of perception of the other.  With her
+feminine eye she could see, and with her man-like brain she could judge.
+
+Patricia felt that the one thing to do was to get rid of her aunt for
+the day and then think things over quietly and decide as to her plan of
+campaign.
+
+"Please, Aunt Adelaide," she said, "don't let's discuss it any more
+to-day, I've had such a worrying time at the Bonsors', and my head is
+so stupid.  Come to tea to-morrow afternoon at half-past five and I
+will tell you all, as they say in the novelettes; but for heaven's sake
+don't get talking to those dreadful old tabbies.  They have no affairs
+of their own, and at the present moment they simply live upon mine."
+
+"Very well, Patricia," replied Miss Brent as she rose to go, "I will
+wait until to-morrow; but, understand me, I am your sole surviving
+relative and I have a duty to perform by you.  That duty I shall
+perform whatever it costs me."
+
+As Patricia looked into the hard, cold eyes of her aunt, she believed
+her.  At that moment Miss Brent looked as if she represented all the
+aggressive virtues in Christendom.
+
+"It's very sweet of you, Aunt Adelaide, and I very much appreciate your
+interest.  I am all nervy to-day; but I shall be all right to-morrow.
+Don't forget, half-past five here.  That will give me time to get back
+from the Bonsors'."
+
+Miss Brent pecked Patricia's right cheek and moved towards the door.
+"Remember, Patricia," she said, as a final shot, "to-morrow I shall
+expect a full explanation.  I am deeply concerned about you.  I cannot
+conceive what your poor dear father would have said had he been alive."
+
+With this parting shot Miss Brent moved down the staircase and left
+Galvin House.  As she stalked to the temperance hotel in Bloomsbury,
+where she was staying, she was fully satisfied that she had done her
+duty as a woman and a Christian.
+
+"Sole surviving relative," muttered Patricia as she turned back after
+seeing her aunt out.  And then she remembered with a smile that her
+father had once said that "relatives were the very devil."  A softness
+came into her eyes at the thought of her father, and she remembered
+another saying of his, "When you lose your sense of humour and your
+courage at the same time, you have lost the game."
+
+For a moment Patricia paused, deliberating what she would do.  Finally,
+she walked to the telephone at the end of the hall.  There was a
+grimness about her look indicative of a set purpose, taking down the
+receiver she called "Gerrard 60000."
+
+There was a pause.
+
+"That the Quadrant Hotel?" she enquired.  "Is Lord Peter Bowen in?"
+
+The clerk would enquire.
+
+Patricia waited what seemed an age.
+
+At last a voice cried, "Hullo!"
+
+"Is that Lord Peter Bowen?"
+
+"Is that you, Patricia?" came the reply from the other end of the wire.
+
+"Oh, so it is true then!" said Patricia.
+
+"What's true?" queried Bowen at the other end.
+
+"What I've just said."
+
+"What do you mean?  I don't understand."
+
+"I must see you this evening," said Patricia in an even voice.
+
+"That's most awfully good of you."
+
+"It's nothing of the sort."
+
+Bowen laughed.  "Shall I come round?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Will you dine with me?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, where shall I see you?"
+
+Patricia thought for a moment.  "I will meet you at Lancaster Gate tube
+at twenty minutes to nine."
+
+"All right, I'll be there.  Shall I bring the car?"
+
+For a moment Patricia hesitated.  She did not want to go to a
+restaurant with him, she wanted merely to talk and see how she was to
+get out of the difficulty with Aunt Adelaide.  The car seemed to offer
+a solution.  They could drive out to some quiet place and then talk
+without a chance of being overheard.
+
+"Yes, please, I think that will do admirably."
+
+"Mind you bring a thick coat.  Won't you let me pick you up?  Please
+do, then you can bring a fur coat and all that sort of thing, you know."
+
+Again Patricia hesitated for a moment.  "Perhaps that would be the
+better way," she conceded grudgingly.
+
+"Right-oh!  Will half-past eight do?"
+
+"Yes, I'll be ready."
+
+"It's awfully kind of you; I'm frightfully bucked."
+
+"You had better wait and see, I think," was Patricia's grim retort.
+"Good-bye."
+
+"Au revoir."
+
+Patricia put the receiver up with a jerk.
+
+She returned to her room conscious that she was never able to do
+herself justice with Bowen.  Her most righteous anger was always in
+danger of being dissipated when she spoke to him.  His personality
+seemed to radiate good nature, and he always appeared so genuinely glad
+to see her, or hear her voice that it placed her at a disadvantage.
+She ought to be stronger and more tenacious of purpose, she told
+herself.  It was weak to be so easily influenced by someone else,
+especially a man who had treated her in the way that Bowen had treated
+her; for Patricia had now come to regard herself as extremely ill-used.
+
+Nothing, she told herself, would have persuaded her to ring up Bowen in
+the way she had done, had it not been for Aunt Adelaide.  In her heart
+she had to confess that she was very much afraid of Aunt Adelaide and
+what she might do.
+
+Patricia dreaded dinner that evening.  She knew instinctively that
+everybody would be full of Miss Wangle's discovery.  She might have
+known that Miss Wangle would not be satisfied until she had discovered
+everything there was to be discovered about Bowen.
+
+As Patricia walked along the hall to the staircase, Mrs. Hamilton came
+out of the lounge.  Patricia put her arm round the fragile waist of the
+old lady and they walked upstairs together.
+
+"Well," said Patricia gaily, "what are the old tabbies doing this
+afternoon?"
+
+"My dear!" expostulated Mrs. Hamilton gently, "you mustn't call them
+that, they have so very little to interest them that--that----"
+
+"Oh, you dear, funny little thing!" said Patricia, giving Mrs. Hamilton
+a squeeze which almost lifted her off her feet.  "I think you would
+find an excuse for anyone, no matter how wicked.  When I get very, very
+bad I shall come and ask you to explain me to myself.  I think if you
+had your way you would prove every wolf a sheep underneath.  Come into
+my room and have a pow-wow."
+
+Inside her room Patricia lifted Mrs. Hamilton bodily on to the bed.
+"Now lie there, you dear little thing, and have a rest.  Dad used to
+say that every woman ought to lie on her back for two hours each day.
+I don't know why.  I suppose it was to keep her quiet and get her out
+of the way.  In any case you have got to lie down there."
+
+"But your bed, my dear," protested Mrs. Hamilton.
+
+"Never mind my bed, you just do as you're told.  Now what are the old
+cats--I beg your pardon, what have the--lambs been saying?"
+
+Mrs. Hamilton smiled in spite of herself.  "Well, of course, dear,
+we're all very interested to hear that you are engaged to--Lord Peter
+Bowen."
+
+"How did they find out?" interrupted Patricia.
+
+"Well, it appears that Miss Wangle has a friend who has a cousin in the
+War Office."
+
+"Oh, dear!" groaned Patricia.  "I believe Miss Wangle has a friend who
+has a cousin in every known place in the world, and a good many unknown
+places," she added.  "She has got a bishop in heaven, innumerable
+connections in Mayfair, acquaintances at Court, cousins of friends at
+the War Office; the only place where she seems to have nobody who has
+anybody else is hell."
+
+"My dear!" said Mrs. Hamilton in horror, "you mustn't talk like that."
+
+"But isn't it true?" persisted Patricia.  "Well, I'm sorry if I've
+shocked you.  Tell me all about it."
+
+"Well," began Mrs. Hamilton, "soon after you had gone out Miss Wangle's
+friend telephoned in reply to her letter of enquiry.  She told her all
+about Lord Peter Bowen, how he had distinguished himself in France, won
+the Military Cross, the D.S.O., how he had been promoted to the rank of
+lieutenant-colonel, and brought back to the War Office and given a
+position on the General Staff.  He's a very clever young man, my dear."
+
+Patricia laughed outright at Mrs. Hamilton's earnestness.  "Why of
+course he's clever, otherwise he wouldn't have taken up with such a
+clever young woman."
+
+"Well, my dear, I hope you'll be happy," said Mrs. Hamilton earnestly.
+
+"I doubt it," said Patricia.
+
+"Doubt it!"  There was horror in Mrs. Hamilton's voice.  She half
+raised herself on the bed.  Patricia pushed her back again.
+
+"Never mind, your remark reminds me of a story about a
+great-great-grandmother of mine.  A granddaughter of hers had become
+engaged and there was a great family meeting to introduce the poor
+victim to his future "in-laws."  The old lady was very deaf and had
+formed the habit of speaking aloud quite unconscious that others could
+hear her.  The wretched young man was brought up and presented, and
+everybody was agog to hear the grandmotherly pronouncement, for the old
+lady was as shrewd as she was frank.  She looked at the young man
+keenly and deliberately, whilst he stood the picture of discomfort, and
+turning to her granddaughter, said, "Well, my dear, I hope you'll be
+happy, I hope you'll be very happy," then to herself in an equally loud
+voice she added, "But he wouldn't have been my choice, he wouldn't have
+been my choice."
+
+"Oh! the poor dear," said Mrs. Hamilton, seeing only the tragic side of
+the situation.
+
+Patricia laughed.  "How like you, you dear little grey lady," and she
+bent down and kissed the pale cheeks, bringing a slight rose flush to
+them.
+
+It was half-past seven before Mrs. Hamilton left Patricia's room.
+
+"Heigh-ho!" sighed Patricia as she undid her hair, "I suppose I shall
+have to run the gauntlet during dinner."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+LORD PETER PROMISES A SOLUTION
+
+Sunday supper at Galvin House was a cold meal timed for eight o'clock;
+but allowed to remain upon the table until half-past nine for the
+convenience of church-goers.
+
+Patricia had dawdled over her toilette, realising, however, to admit
+that she dreaded the ordeal before her in the dining-room.  When at
+last she could find no excuse for remaining longer in her room, she
+descended the stairs slowly, conscious of a strange feeling of
+hesitancy about her knees.
+
+Outside the dining-room door she paused.  Her instinct was to bolt; but
+the pad-pad of Gustave's approaching footsteps cutting off her retreat
+decided her.  As she entered the dining-room the hum of excited
+conversation ceased abruptly and, amidst a dead silence, Patricia
+walked to her seat conscious of a heightened colour and a hatred of her
+own species.
+
+Looking round the table, and seeing how acutely self-conscious everyone
+seemed, her self-possession returned.  She noticed a new deference in
+Gustave's manner as he placed before her a plate of cold shoulder of
+mutton and held the salad-bowl at her side.  Having helped herself
+Patricia turned to Miss Wangle, and for a moment regarded her with an
+enigmatical smile that made her fidget.
+
+"How clever of you, Miss Wangle," she said sweetly.  "In future no one
+will ever dare to have a secret at Galvin House."
+
+Miss Wangle reddened.  Mr. Bolton's laugh rang out.
+
+"Miss Wangle, Private Enquiry Agent," he cried, "I----"
+
+"Really, Mr. Bolton!" protested Mrs. Craske-Morton, looking anxiously
+at Miss Wangle's indrawn lips and angry eyes.
+
+Mr. Bolton subsided.
+
+"We're so excited, dear Miss Brent," simpered Miss Sikkum.  "You'll be
+Lady Bowen----"
+
+"Lady Peter Bowen," corrected Mrs. Craske-Morton with superior
+knowledge.
+
+"Lady Peter," gushed Miss Sikkum.  "Oh how romantic, and I shall see
+your portrait in _The Mirror_.  Oh!  Miss Brent, aren't you happy?"
+
+Patricia smiled across at Miss Sikkum, whose enthusiasm was too genuine
+to cause offence.
+
+"And you'll have cars and all sorts of things," remarked Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe, thinking of he solitary blue evening frock, "he's very
+rich."
+
+"Worth ten thousand a year," almost shouted Mr. Cordal, striving to
+regain control over a piece of lettuce-leaf that fluttered from his
+lips, and having eventually to use his fingers.
+
+"You'll forget all about us," said Miss Pilkington, who in her capacity
+as a post-office supervisor daily showed her contempt for the public
+whose servant she was.
+
+"If you're nice to her," said Mr. Bolton, "she may buy her stamps at
+your place."
+
+Again Mrs. Craske-Morton's "Really, Mr. Bolton!" eased the situation.
+
+Patricia was for the most part silent.  She was thinking of the coming
+talk with Bowen.  In spite of herself she was excited at the prospect
+of seeing him again.  Miss Wangle also said little.  From time to time
+she glanced in Patricia's direction.
+
+"The Wangle's off her feed," whispered Mr. Bolton to Miss Sikkum,
+producing from her a giggle and an "Oh!  Mr. Bolton, you _are_
+dreadful."
+
+Mrs. Barnes was worrying as to whether a lord should be addressed as
+"my lord" or "sir," and if you curtsied to him, and if so how you did
+it with rheumatism in the knee.
+
+Patricia noticed with amusement the new deference with which everyone
+treated her.  Mrs. Craske-Morton, in particular, was most solicitous
+that she should make a good meal.  Miss Wangle's silence was in itself
+a tribute.  Patricia nervously waited the moment when Bowen's presence
+should be announced.
+
+When the time came Gustave rose to the occasion magnificently.
+Throwing open the dining-room door impressively and speaking with great
+distinctness he cried:
+
+"Ees Lordship is 'ere, mees," and then after a moment's pause he added,
+"'E 'as brought 'is car, mees.  It is at the door."
+
+Patricia smiled in spite of herself at Gustave's earnestness.
+
+"Very well, Gustave, say I will not be a moment," she replied and, with
+a muttered apology to Mrs. Craske-Morton, she left the table and the
+dining-room, conscious of the dramatic tension of the situation.
+
+Patricia ran down the passage leading to the lounge, then, suddenly
+remembering that haste and happiness were not in keeping with anger and
+reproach, entered the lounge with a sedateness that even Aunt Adelaide
+could not have found lacking in maidenly decorum.
+
+Bowen came across from the window and took both her hands.
+
+"Why was she allowing him to do this?" she asked herself.  "Why did she
+not reproach him, why did she thrill at his touch, why----?"
+
+She withdrew her hands sharply, looked up at him and then for no reason
+at all laughed.
+
+How absurd it all was.  It was easy to be angry with him when he was at
+the Quadrant and she at Galvin House; but with him before her, looking
+down at her with eyes that were smilingly confident and gravely
+deferential by turn, she found her anger and good resolutions disappear.
+
+"I know you are going to bully me, Patricia."  Bowen's eyes smiled; but
+there was in his voice a note of enquiry.
+
+"Oh! please let us escape before the others come in sight," said
+Patricia, looking over her shoulder anxiously.  "They'll all be out in
+a moment.  I left them straining at their leashes and swallowing
+scalding coffee so as to get a glimpse of a real, live lord at close
+quarters."
+
+As she spoke Patricia stabbed on a toque.
+
+"Shall I want anything warmer than this?" she enquired as Bowen helped
+her into a long fur-trimmed coat.
+
+"I brought a big fur coat for you in case it gets cold," he replied,
+and he held open the door for her to pass.
+
+"Quick," she whispered, "they're coming."
+
+As she ran down the steps she nodded brightly to Gustave, who stood
+almost bowed down with the burden of his respect for an English lord.
+
+As Bowen swung the car round, Patricia was conscious that at the
+drawing-room and lounge windows Galvin House was heavily massed.
+Unable to find a space, Miss Sikkum and Mr. Bolton had come out on to
+the doorstep and, as the car jerked forward, Miss Sikkum waved her
+pocket handkerchief.
+
+Patricia shuddered.
+
+For some time they were silent.  Patricia was content to enjoy the
+unaccustomed sense of swift movement coupled with the feeling of the
+luxury of a Rolls Royce.  From time to time Bowen glanced at her and
+smiled, and she was conscious of returning the smile, although in the
+light of what she intended to say she felt that smiles were not
+appropriate.
+
+The car sped along the Bayswater Road, threaded its way through
+Hammersmith Broadway and passed over the bridge, across Barnes Common
+into Priory Lane, and finally into Richmond Park.  Bowen had not
+mentioned where he intended to take her, and Patricia was glad.  She
+was essentially feminine, and liked having things decided for her, the
+more so as she invariably had to decide for herself.
+
+Half-way across the Park Bowen turned in the direction of Kingston Gate
+and, a minute later, drew up just off the roadway.  Having stopped the
+engine he turned to her.
+
+"Now, Patricia," he said with a smile, "I am at your mercy.  There is
+no one within hail."
+
+Bowen's voice recalled her from dreamland.  She was thinking how
+different everything might have been, but for that unfortunate
+unconvention.  With an effort she came down to earth to find Bowen
+smiling into her eyes.
+
+It was an effort for her to assume the indignation she had previously
+felt.  Bowen's presence seemed to dissipate her anger.  Why had she not
+written to him instead of endeavouring to express verbally what she
+knew she would fail to convey?
+
+"Please don't be too hard on me, Patricia," pleaded Bowen.
+
+Patricia looked at him.  She wished he would not smile at her in that
+way and assume an air of penitence.  It was so disarming.  It was
+unfair.  He was taking a mean advantage.  He was always taking a mean
+advantage of her, always putting her in the wrong.
+
+By keeping her face carefully averted from his, she was able to tinge
+her voice with indignation as she demanded:
+
+"Why did you not tell me who you were?"
+
+"But I did," he protested.
+
+"You said that you were Colonel Bowen, and you are not."  Patricia was
+pleased to find her sense of outraged indignation increasing.  "You
+have made me ridiculous in the eyes of everyone at Galvin House."
+
+"But," protested Bowen.
+
+"It's no good saying 'but,'" replied Patricia unreasonably, "you know
+I'm right."
+
+"But I told you my name was Bowen," he said, "and later I told you that
+my rank was that of a lieutenant-colonel, both of which are quite
+correct."
+
+"You are Lord Peter Bowen, and you've made me ridiculous," then
+conscious of the absurdity of her words, Patricia laughed; but there
+was no mirth in her laughter.
+
+"Made you ridiculous," said Bowen, concern in his voice.  "But how?"
+
+"Oh, I am not referring to your boy-messengers and telegrams, florists'
+shops, confectioners' stocks," said Patricia, "but all the tabbies in
+Galvin House set themselves to work to find out who you were
+and--and--look what an absurd figure I cut!  Then of course Aunt
+Adelaide must butt in."
+
+"Aunt Adelaide!" repeated Bowen, knitting his brows.  "Tabbies at
+Galvin House!"
+
+"If you repeat my words like that I shall scream," said Patricia.  "I
+wish you would try and be intelligent.  Miss Wangle told Aunt Adelaide
+that I'm engaged to Lord Peter Bowen.  Aunt Adelaide then asked me
+about my engagement, and I had to make up some sort of story about
+Colonel Bowen.  She then enquired if it were true that I was engaged to
+Lord Peter Bowen.  Of course I said 'No,' and that is where we are at
+present, and you've got to help me out.  You got me into the mess."
+
+"Might I enquire who Aunt Adelaide is, please, Patricia?"
+
+Bowen's humility made him very difficult to talk to.
+
+"Aunt Adelaide is my sole surviving relative, vide her own statement,"
+said Patricia.  "If I had my way she would be neither surviving nor a
+relative; but as it happens she is both, and to-morrow afternoon at
+half-past five she is coming to Galvin House to receive a full
+explanation of my conduct."
+
+Bowen compressed his lips and wrinkled his forehead; but there was
+laughter in his eyes.
+
+"It's difficult, isn't it, Patricia?" he said.
+
+"It's absurd, and please don't call me Patricia."
+
+"But we're engaged and----"
+
+"We're nothing of the sort," she said.
+
+"But we are," protested Bowen.  "I can----"
+
+"Never mind what you can do," she retorted.  "What am I to tell Aunt
+Adelaide at half-past five to-morrow evening?"
+
+"Why not tell her the truth?" said Bowen.
+
+"Isn't that just like a man?"  Patricia addressed the query to a deer
+that was eyeing the car curiously from some fifty yards distance.
+"Tell the truth," she repeated scornfully.  "But how much will that
+help us?"
+
+"Well! let's tell a lie," protested Bowen, smiling.
+
+And then Patricia did a weak and foolish thing, she laughed, and Bowen
+laughed.  Finally they sat and looked at each other helplessly.
+
+"However you got those," she nodded at the ribbons on his breast, "I
+don't know.  It was certainly not for being intelligent."
+
+For a minute Bowen did not reply.  He was apparently lost in thought.
+Presently he turned to Patricia.
+
+"Look here," he said, "by half-past five to-morrow afternoon I'll have
+found a solution.  Now can't we talk about something pleasant?"
+
+"There is nothing pleasant to talk about when Aunt Adelaide is looming
+on the horizon.  She's about the most unpleasant thing next to
+chilblains that I know."
+
+"I suppose," said Bowen tentatively, "you couldn't solve the difficulty
+by marrying me by special licence."
+
+"Marry you by special licence!" cried Patricia in amazement.
+
+"Yes, it would put everything right."
+
+"I think you must be mad," said Patricia with decision; but conscious
+that her cheeks were very hot.
+
+"I think I must be in love," was Bowen's quiet retort.  "Will you?"
+
+"Not even to escape Aunt Adelaide's interrogation would I marry you by
+special, or any other licence," said Patricia with decision.
+
+Bowen turned away, a shadow falling across his face.  Then a moment
+after, drawing his cigarette-case from his pocket, he enquired, "Shall
+we smoke?"
+
+Patricia accepted the cigarette he offered her.  She watched him as he
+lighted first hers, then his own.  She saw the frown that had settled
+upon his usually happy face, and noted the staccatoed manner in which
+he smoked.  Then she became conscious that she had been lacking in not
+only graciousness but common civility.  Instinctively she put out her
+hand and touched his coat-sleeve.
+
+"Please forgive me, I was rather a beast, wasn't I?" she said.
+
+He looked round and smiled; but the smile did not reach his eyes.
+
+"Please try and understand," she said, "and now will you drive me home?"
+
+Bowen looked at her for a moment, then, getting out of the car, started
+the engine, and without a word climbed back to his seat.
+
+The journey back was performed in silence.  At Galvin House Gustave,
+who was on the look-out, threw open the door with a flourish.
+
+In saying good night neither referred to the subject of their
+conversation.
+
+As Patricia entered, the lounge seemed suddenly to empty its contents
+into the hall.
+
+"I hope you enjoyed your ride," said Mr. Bolton.
+
+"I hate motoring," said Patricia.  Then she walked upstairs with a curt
+"Good night," leaving a group of surprised people speculating as to the
+cause of her mood, and deeply commiserating with Bowen.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+LORD PETER'S S.O.S.
+
+"The bath is ready, my lord."
+
+Lord Peter Bowen opened his eyes as if reluctant to acknowledge that
+another day had dawned.  He stretched his limbs and yawned luxuriously.
+For the next few moments he lay watching his man, Peel, as he moved
+noiselessly about the room, idly speculating as to whether such
+precision and self-repression were natural or acquired.
+
+To Bowen Peel was a source of never-ending interest.  No matter at what
+hour Bowen had seen him, Peel always appeared as if he had just shaved.
+In his every action there was purpose, and every purpose was governed
+by one law--order.  He was noiseless, wordless, selfless.  Bowen was
+convinced that were he to die suddenly and someone chance to call, Peel
+would merely say: "His Lordship is not at home, sir."
+
+Thin of face, small of stature, precise of movement, Peel possessed the
+individuality of negation.  He looked nothing in particular, seemed
+nothing in particular, did everything to perfection.  His face was a
+barrier to intimacy, his demeanour a gulf to the curious: he betrayed
+neither emotion nor confidence.  In short he was the most perfect
+gentleman's servant in existence.
+
+"What's the time, Peel?" enquired Bowen.
+
+"Seven forty-three, my lord," replied the meticulous Peel, glancing at
+the clock on the mantel-piece.
+
+"Have I any engagements to-day?" queried his master.
+
+"No, my lord.  You have refused to make any since last Thursday
+morning."
+
+Then Bowen remembered.  He had pleaded pressure at the War Office as an
+excuse for declining all invitations.  He was determined that nothing
+should interfere with his seeing Patricia should she unbend.  With the
+thought of Patricia returned the memory of the previous night's events.
+Bowen cursed himself for the mess he had made of things.  Every act of
+his had seemed to result only in one thing, the angering of Patricia.
+Even then things might have gone well if it had not been for his
+wretched bad luck in being the son of a peer.
+
+As he lay watching Peel, Bowen felt in a mood to condole with himself.
+Confound it!  Surely it could not be urged against him as his fault
+that he had a wretched title.  He had been given no say in the matter.
+As for telling Patricia, could he immediately on meeting her blurt out,
+"I'm a lord?"  Supposing he had introduced himself as
+"Lieutenant-Colonel Lord Peter Bowen."  How ridiculous it would have
+sounded.  He had come to hate the very sound of the word "lord."
+
+"It's ten minutes to eight, my lord."
+
+It was Peel's voice that broke in upon his reflections.
+
+"Oh, damn!" cried Bowen as he threw his legs out of bed and sat looking
+at Peel.
+
+"I beg pardon, my lord?"
+
+"I said damn!" replied Bowen.
+
+"Yes, my lord."
+
+Bowen regarded Peel narrowly.  He was confoundedly irritating this
+morning.  He seemed to be my-lording his master specially to annoy him.
+There was, however, no sign upon Peel's features or in his watery blue
+eyes indicating that he was other than in his normal frame of mind.
+
+Why couldn't Patricia be sensible?  Why must she take up this absurd
+attitude, contorting every action of his into a covert insult?  Why
+above all things couldn't women be reasonable?  Bowen rose, stretched
+himself and walked across to the bath-room.  As he was about to enter
+he looked over his shoulder.
+
+"If," he said, "you can arrange to remind me of my infernal title as
+little as possible during the next few days, Peel, I shall feel
+infinitely obliged."
+
+"Yes, my lord," was the response.
+
+Bowen banged the door savagely, and Peel rang to order breakfast.
+
+During the meal Bowen pondered over the events of the previous evening,
+and in particular over Patricia's unreasonableness.  His one source of
+comfort was that she had appealed to him to put things right about her
+aunt.  That would involve his seeing her again.  He did not, or would
+not, see that he was the only one to whom she could appeal.
+
+Bowen always breakfasted in his own sitting-room; he disliked his
+fellow-men in the early morning.  Looking up suddenly from the table he
+caught Peel's expressionless eye upon him.
+
+"Peel."
+
+"Yes, my lord."
+
+"Why is it that we Englishmen dislike each other so at breakfast?"
+
+Peel paused for a moment.  "I've heard it said, my lord, that we're
+half an inch taller in the morning, perhaps our perceptions are more
+acute also."
+
+Bowen looked at Peel curiously.
+
+"You're a philosopher," he said, "and I'm afraid a bit of a cynic."
+
+"I hope not, my lord," responded Peel.
+
+Bowen pushed back his chair and rose, receiving from Peel his cap,
+cane, and gloves.
+
+"By the way," he said, "I want you to ring up Lady Tanagra and ask her
+to lunch with me at half-past one.  Tell her it's very important, and
+ask her not to fail me."
+
+"Yes, my lord: it shall be attended to."
+
+Bowen went out.  Lady Tanagra was Bowen's only sister.  As children
+they had been inseparable, forced into an alliance by the overbearing
+nature of their elder brother, the heir, Viscount Bowen, who would
+succeed to the title as the eighth Marquess of Meyfield.  Bowen was
+five years older than his sister, who had just passed her twenty-third
+birthday and, as a frail sensitive child, she had instinctively looked
+to him for protection against her elder brother.
+
+Their comradeship was that of mutual understanding.  For one to say to
+the other, "Don't fail me," meant that any engagement, however
+pressing, would be put off.  There was a tacit acknowledgment that
+their comradeship stood before all else.  Each to the other was unique.
+Thus when Bowen sent the message to Lady Tanagra through Peel asking
+her not to fail him, he knew that she would keep the appointment.  He
+knew equally well that it would involve her in the breaking of some
+other engagement, for there were few girls in London so popular as Lady
+Tanagra Bowen.
+
+Whenever there was an important social function, Lady Tanagra Bowen was
+sure to be there, and it was equally certain that the photographers of
+the illustrated and society papers would so manoeuvre that she came
+into the particular group, or groups, they were taking.
+
+The seventh Marquess of Meyfield was an enthusiastic collector of
+Tanagra figurines and, overruling his lady's protestations, he had
+determined to call his first and only daughter Tanagra.  Lady Meyfield
+had begged for a second name; but the Marquess had been resolute.
+"Tanagra I will have her christened and Tanagra I will have her
+called," he had said with a smile that, if it mitigated the sternness
+of his expression, did not in my way undermine his determination.  Lady
+Meyfield knew her lord, and also that her only chance of ruling him was
+by showing unfailing tact.  She therefore bowed to his decision.
+
+"Poor child!" she had remarked as she looked down at the frail little
+mite in the hollow of her arm, "you're certainly going to be made
+ridiculous; but I've done my best," and Lord Meyfield had come across
+the room and kissed his wife with the remark, "There you're wrong, my
+dear, it's going to help to make her a great success.  Imagine, the
+Lady Tanagra Bowen; why it would make a celebrity of the most
+commonplace female," whereat they had both smiled.
+
+As a child Lady Tanagra had been teased unmercifully about her name, so
+much so that she had almost hated it; but later when she had come to
+love the figurines that were so much part of her father's life, she had
+learned, not only to respect, but to be proud of the name.
+
+To her friends and intimates she was always Tan, to the less intimate
+Lady Tan, and to the world at large Lady Tanagra Bowen.
+
+She had once found the name extremely useful, when in process of being
+proposed to by an undesirable of the name of Black.
+
+"It's no good," she had said, "I could never marry you, no matter what
+the state of my feelings.  Think how ridiculous we should both be,
+everybody would call us Black and Tan.  Ugh! it sounds like a whisky as
+well as a dog."  Whereat Mr. Black had laughed and they remained
+friends, which was a great tribute to Lady Tanagra.
+
+Exquisitely pretty, sympathetic, witty, human!  Lady Tanagra Bowen was
+a favourite wherever she went.  She seemed incapable of making enemies
+even amongst her own sex.  Her taste in dress was as unerring as in
+literature and art.  Everything she did or said was without effort.
+She had been proposed to by "half the eligibles and all the ineligibles
+in London," as Bowen phrased it; but she declared she would never marry
+until Peter married, and had thus got somebody else to mother him.
+
+At a quarter-past one when Bowen left the War Office, he found Lady
+Tanagra waiting in her car outside.
+
+"Hullo, Tan!" he cried, "what a brainy idea, picking up the poor, tired
+warrior."
+
+"It'll save you a taxi, Peter.  I'll tell you what to do with the
+shilling as we go along."
+
+Lady Tanagra smiled up into her brother's face.  She was always happy
+with Peter.
+
+As she swung the car across Whitehall to get into the north-bound
+stream of traffic, Bowen looked down at his sister.  She handled her
+big car with dexterity and ease.  She was a dainty creature with
+regular features, violet-blue eyes and golden hair that seemed to defy
+all constraint.  There was a tilt about her chin that showed
+determination, and that about her eyebrows which suggested something
+more than good judgment.
+
+"I hope you weren't doing anything to-day, Tan," said Bowen as they
+came to a standstill at the top of Whitehall, waiting for the removal
+of a blue arm that barred their progress.
+
+"I was lunching with the Bolsovers; but I'm not well enough, I'm
+afraid, to see them.  It's measles, you know."
+
+"Good heavens, Tan! what do you mean?"
+
+"Well, I had to say something that would be regarded as a sufficient
+excuse for breaking a luncheon engagement of three weeks' standing.
+Quite a lot of people were invited to meet me."
+
+"I'm awfully sorry," began Bowen apologetically.
+
+"Oh, it's all right!" was the reply as the car jumped forward.  "I
+shall be deluged with fruit and flowers now from all sorts of people,
+because the Bolsovers are sure to spread it round that I'm in extremis.
+To-morrow, however, I shall announce that it was a wrong diagnosis."
+
+Lady Tanagra drew the car up to the curb outside Dent's.  "I think,"
+she said, indicating an old woman selling matches, "we'll give her the
+shilling for the taxi, Peter, shall we?"
+
+Peter beckoned the old woman and handed her a shilling with a smile.
+
+"Does it make you feel particularly virtuous to be charitable with
+another's money?" he enquired.
+
+Lady Tanagra made a grimace.
+
+Over lunch they talked upon general topics and about common friends.
+Lady Tanagra made no reference to the important matter that had caused
+her to be summoned to lunch, even at the expense of having measles as
+an excuse.  That was characteristic of her.  She had nothing of a
+woman's curiosity, at least she never showed it, particularly with
+Peter.
+
+After lunch they went to the lounge for coffee.  When they had been
+served and both were smoking, Bowen remarked casually, "Got any
+engagement for this afternoon, Tan?"
+
+"Tea at the Carlton at half-past four, then I promised to run in to see
+the Grahams before dinner.  I'm afraid it will mean more flowers and
+fruit.  Oh!" she replied, "I suppose I must stick to measles.  I shall
+have to buy some thanks for kind enquiries cards as I go home."
+
+During lunch Bowen had been wondering how he could approach the subject
+of Patricia.  He could not tell even Tanagra how he had met her--that
+was Patricia's secret.  If she chose to tell, that was another matter;
+but he could not.  As a rule he found it easy to talk to Tanagra and
+explain things; but this was a little unusual.  Lady Tanagra watched
+him shrewdly for a minute or two.
+
+"I think I should just say it as it comes, Peter," she remarked in a
+casual, matter-of-fact tone.
+
+Bowen started and then laughed.
+
+"What I want is a sponsor for an acquaintanceship between myself and a
+girl.  I cannot tell you everything, Tan, she may decide to; but of
+course you know it's all right."
+
+"Why, of course," broke in Lady Tanagra with an air of conviction which
+contained something of a reproach that he should have thought it
+necessary to mention such a thing.
+
+"Well, you've got to do a bit of lying, too, I'm afraid."
+
+"Oh! that will be all right.  The natural consequence of a high
+temperature through measles."  Lady Tanagra saw that Bowen was ill at
+ease, and sought by her lightness to simplify things for him.
+
+"How long have I known her?" she proceeded.
+
+"Oh! that you had better settle with her.  All that is necessary is for
+you to have met her somewhere, or somehow, and to have introduced me to
+her."
+
+"And who is to receive these explanations?" enquired Lady Tanagra.
+
+"Her aunt, a gorgon."
+
+"Does the girl know that you are--that I am to throw myself into the
+breach?"
+
+"No," said Peter, "I didn't think to tell her.  I said that I would
+arrange things.  Her name's Patricia Brent.  She's private secretary to
+Arthur Bonsor of 426 Eaton Square, and she lives at Galvin House
+Residential Hotel, to give it its full title, 8 Galvin Street,
+Bayswater.  Her aunt is to be at Galvin House at half-past five this
+afternoon, when I have to be explained to her.  Oh! it's most devilish
+awkward, Tan, because I can't tell you the facts of the case.  I wish
+she were here."
+
+"That's all right, Peter.  I'll put things right.  What time does she
+leave Eaton Square?"
+
+"Five o'clock, I think."
+
+"Good! leave it to me.  By the way, where shall you be if I want to get
+at you?"
+
+"When?"
+
+"Say six o'clock."
+
+"I'll be back here at six and wait until seven."
+
+"That will do.  Now I really must be going.  I've got to telephone to
+these people about the measles.  Shall I run you down to Whitehall?"
+
+"No, thanks, I think I'll walk," and with that he saw her into her car
+and turned to walk back to Whitehall, thanking his stars for being
+possessed of such a sister and marvelling at her wisdom.  He had not
+the most remote idea of how she would achieve her purpose; but achieve
+it he was convinced she would.  It was notorious that Lady Tanagra
+never failed in anything she undertook.
+
+While Bowen and his sister were lunching at the Quadrant, Patricia was
+endeavouring to concentrate her mind upon her work.  "The egregious
+Arthur," as she called him to herself in her more impatient moments,
+had been very trying that morning.  He had been in a particularly
+indeterminate mood, which involved the altering and changing of almost
+every sentence he dictated.  In the usual way he was content to tell
+Patricia what he wanted to say, and let her clothe it in fitting words;
+but this morning he had insisted on dictating every letter, with the
+result that her notes had become hopelessly involved and she was
+experiencing great difficulty in reading them.  Added to this was the
+fact that she could not keep her thoughts from straying to Aunt
+Adelaide.  What would happen that afternoon?  What was Bowen going to
+do to save the situation?  He had promised to see her through; but how
+was he going to do it?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+LADY TANAGRA TAKES A HAND
+
+At a quarter to five Patricia left the library to go upstairs to put on
+her hat and coat.  In the hall she encountered Mrs. Bonsor.
+
+"Finished?" interrogated that lady in a tone of voice that implied she
+was perfectly well aware of the fact that it wanted still a quarter of
+an hour to the time at which Patricia was supposed to be free.
+
+"No; there is still some left; but I'm going home," said Patricia.
+There was something in her voice and appearance that prompted Mrs.
+Bonsor to smile her artificial smile and remark that she thought
+Patricia was quite right, the weather being very trying.
+
+When she left the Bonsors' house, Patricia was too occupied with her
+own thoughts to notice the large grey car standing a few yards up the
+square with a girl at the steering-wheel.  Patricia turned in the
+opposite direction from that in which the car stood, making her way
+towards Sloane Street to get her bus.  She had not gone many steps when
+the big car slid silently up beside her, and she heard a voice say,
+"Can't I give you a lift to Galvin House?"
+
+She turned round and saw a fair-haired girl smiling at her from the car.
+
+"I--I----"
+
+"Jump in, won't you?" said the girl.
+
+"But--but I think you've made a mistake."
+
+"You're Patricia Brent, aren't you?"
+
+"Yes," said Patricia, smiling, "that's my name."
+
+"Well then, jump in and I'll run you up to Galvin House.  Don't delay
+or you'll be too late for your aunt."
+
+Patricia looked at the girl in mute astonishment, but proceeded to get
+into the car, there seemed nothing else to be done.  As she did so, the
+fair-haired girl laughed brightly.  "It's awfully mean of me to take
+such an advantage, but I couldn't resist it.  I'm Peter's sister,
+Tanagra."
+
+"Oh!" said Patricia, light dawning upon her and turning to Tanagra with
+a smile, "Then you're the solution?"
+
+"Yes," said Lady Tanagra, "I'm going to see you two out of the mess
+you've somehow or other got into."
+
+Suddenly Patricia stiffened.  "Did he--did he--er--tell you?"
+
+"Not he," said Lady Tanagra, shoving on the brake suddenly to avoid a
+crawling taxi that had swung round without any warning.  "Peter doesn't
+talk."
+
+"But then, how do you----?"
+
+"Well," said Lady Tanagra, "he told me that I was to be the one who had
+introduced him to you and explain him to your aunt.  It's all over
+London that I've got measles, and there will be simply piles of flowers
+and fruit arriving at Grosvenor Square by every possible conveyance."
+
+"Measles!" cried Patricia uncomprehendingly.
+
+"Yes, you see when Peter wants me I always have to throw up any sort of
+engagement, and he does the same for me.  When he asked me to lunch
+with him to-day and said it was important, I had to give some
+reasonable excuse to three lots of people to whom I had pledged myself,
+and I thought measles would do quite nicely."
+
+Patricia laughed in spite of herself.
+
+"So you don't know anything except that you have got to----"
+
+"Sponsor you," interrupted Lady Tanagra.
+
+For some time Patricia was silent.  She felt she could tell her story
+to this girl who was so trustful that everything was all right, and who
+was willing to do anything to help her brother.
+
+"Can't we go slowly whilst I talk to you," said Patricia, as they
+turned into the Park.
+
+"We'll do better than that," said Lady Tanagra, "we'll stop and sit
+down for five minutes."  She pulled up the car near the Stanhope Gate
+and they found a quiet spot under a tree.
+
+"I cannot allow you to enter into this affair," said Patricia, "without
+telling you the whole story.  What you will think of me afterwards I
+don't know; but I've got myself into a most horrible mess."
+
+She then proceeded to explain the whole situation, how it came about
+that she had come to know Bowen and the upshot of the meeting.  Lady
+Tanagra listened without interruption and without betraying by her
+expression what were her thoughts.
+
+"And now what do you think of me?" demanded Patricia when she had
+concluded.
+
+For a moment Lady Tanagra rested her hand upon Patricia's.  "I think,
+you goose, that had you known Peter better there would not have been so
+much need for you to worry; but there isn't much time and we've got to
+prepare.  Now listen carefully.  First of all you must call me Tan or
+Tanagra, and I must call you Patricia or Pat, or whatever you like.
+Secondly, as it would take too long to find out if we've got any
+friends in common, you went to the V.A.D. Depot in St. George's
+Crescent to see if you could do anything to help.  There you met me.
+I'm quite a shining light there, by the way, and we palled up.  This
+led to my introducing Peter and--well all the rest is quite easy."
+
+"But--but there isn't any rest," said Patricia.  "Don't you see how
+horribly awkward it is?  I'm supposed to be engaged to him."
+
+"Oh!" said Lady Tanagra quietly, "that's a matter for you and Peter to
+settle between you.  I'm afraid I can't interfere there.  All I can do
+is to explain how you and he came to know each other; and now we had
+better be getting on as your aunt will not be pleased if you keep her
+waiting.  What I propose to do is to pick her up and take her up to the
+Quadrant where we shall find Peter."
+
+"But," protested Patricia, "that's simply getting us more involved than
+ever."
+
+"Well, I'm afraid it's got to be," said Lady Tanagra, smiling
+mischievously; "it's much better that they should meet at the Quadrant
+than at Galvin House, where you say everybody is so catty."
+
+Patricia saw the force of Lady Tanagra's argument, and they were soon
+whirling on their way towards Galvin House.  She wanted to pinch
+herself to be quite sure that she was not dreaming.  Everything seemed
+to be happening with such rapidity that her brain refused to keep pace
+with events.  Why had she not met these people in a conventional way so
+that she might preserve their friendship?  It was hard luck, she told
+herself.
+
+"Would you mind telling me what you propose doing?" enquired Patricia.
+
+"I promised Peter to gather up the pieces," was the response.  "All
+you've got to do is to remain quiet."
+
+Lady Tanagra brought the car up in front of Galvin House with a
+magnificent sweep.  Gustave, who had been on the watch, swung open the
+door in his most impressive manner.
+
+As Patricia and Lady Tanagra entered the lounge, Miss Wangle and Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe were addressing pleasantries to a particularly grim
+Miss Brent.
+
+"Oh, here you are!"  Miss Brent's exclamation was uttered in such a
+voice as to pierce even the thick skin of Miss Wangle, who having
+instantly recognised Lady Tanagra, retired with Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe a
+few yards, where they carried on a whispered conversation, casting
+significant glances at Lady Tanagra, Miss Brent and Patricia.
+
+"I told Patricia that it was time the families met," said Lady Tanagra,
+"and so I insisted on coming when I heard you were to be here."
+
+"I think you are quite right."
+
+Patricia was surprised at the change in her aunt.  Much of her usual
+uncompromising downrightness had been shed, and she appeared almost
+gracious.  For one thing she was greatly impressed at the thought that
+Patricia was to become Lady Peter Bowen.  As the aunt of Lady Peter
+Bowen, Miss Brent saw that her own social position would be
+considerably improved.  She saw herself taking precedence at Little
+Milstead and issuing its social life and death warrants.  Apart from
+these considerations Miss Brent was not indifferent to Lady Tanagra's
+personal charm.
+
+"Tan's parlour tricks," as Godfrey Elton called them, were notorious.
+Everyone was aware of their existence; yet everyone fell an instant
+victim.  A compound of earnestness, deference, pleading, irresistible
+impertinence and dignity, they formed a dangerous weapon.
+
+Lady Tanagra's position among her friends and acquaintance was unique.
+When difficulties and contentions arose, the parties' instinctive
+impulse was to endeavour to invest her interest.  "Tanagra is so
+sensible," outraged parenthood would exclaim; "Tan's such a sport.
+She'll understand," cried rebellious youth.  People not only asked Lady
+Tanagra's advice, but took it.  The secret of her success, unknown to
+herself, was her knowledge of human nature.  Even those against whom
+she gave her decisions bore her no ill-will.
+
+Her manner towards Miss Brent was a mixture of laughter and
+seriousness, with deft little touches of deference.
+
+"I've come to apologize for everybody and everything, Miss Brent," she
+cried; "but in particular for myself."  Lady Tanagra chatted on gaily,
+"sparring for an opening," Elton called it.
+
+"You mustn't blame Patricia," she bubbled in her soft musical voice,
+"it's all Peter's fault, and where it's not his fault it's mine," she
+proceeded illogically.  "You won't be hard on us, will you?"  She
+looked up at Miss Brent with the demureness of a child expecting severe
+rebuke for some naughtiness.
+
+Miss Brent's eyes narrowed and the firm line of her lips widened.
+Patricia recognised this as the outward evidences of a smile.
+
+"I confess, I am greatly puzzled," began Miss Brent.
+
+"Of course you must be," continued Lady Tanagra, "and if you were not
+so kind you would be very cross, especially with me.  Now," she
+continued, without giving Miss Brent a chance of replying, "I want you
+to do me a very great favour."
+
+Lady Tanagra paused impressively, and gave Miss Brent her most pleading
+look.
+
+Miss Brent looked at Lady Tanagra with just a tinge of suspicion in her
+pea-soup coloured eyes.
+
+"May I ask what it is?" she enquired guardedly.
+
+"I want you to let me carry you off to a quiet place where we can talk."
+
+Miss Brent rose at once.  She disliked Calvin House and the inquisitive
+glances of its inmates.
+
+"I told Peter to be at the Quadrant until seven.  He is very anxious to
+meet you," continued Lady Tanagra as they moved towards the door.  "I
+would not let him come here as I thought, from that Patricia has told
+me, that you would not care--to----" She paused.
+
+"You are quite right, Lady Tanagra," said Miss Brent with decision.  "I
+do not like boarding-houses.  They are not the places for the
+discussion of family affairs."
+
+Patricia descended the steps of Galvin House, not quite sure whether
+this were reality or a dream.  She watched Miss Brent seat herself
+beside Lady Tanagra, whilst she herself entered the tonneau of the car.
+As the door clicked and the car sprang forward, she caught a glimpse of
+eager faces at the windows of Galvin House.
+
+As they swung into the Park and hummed along the even road, Patricia
+endeavoured to bring herself to earth.  She pinched herself until it
+hurt.  What had happened?  She felt like someone present at her own
+funeral.  Her fate was being decided without anyone seeming to think it
+necessary to consult her.
+
+"By half-past five to-morrow afternoon I shall have found a solution."
+Bowen's words came back to her.  He was right.  Lady Tanagra was indeed
+a solution.  Patricia and Miss Brent were merely lay-figures.  It must
+be wonderful to be able to make people do what you wished, she mused.
+She wondered what would have happened had Bowen possessed his sister's
+powers.
+
+At the Quadrant Peel was waiting in the vestibule.  With a bow that
+impressed Miss Brent, he conducted them to Bowen's suite.  As they
+entered Bowen sprang up from a writing-table.  Patricia noticed that
+there was no smell of tobacco smoke.  The Bowens were a wonderful
+family, she decided, remembering her aunt's prejudices.
+
+"I have only just heard you were in town," she heard Bowen explaining
+to Miss Brent.  "I rang up Patricia this morning, but she could not
+remember your address."
+
+Patricia gasped; but, seeing the effect of the "grey lie" (it was not
+quite innocent enough to be called a white lie, she told herself) she
+forgave it.
+
+During tea Lady Tanagra and Bowen set to to "play themselves in," as
+Lady Tanagra afterwards expressed it.
+
+"Poor Aunt Adelaide," Patricia murmured to herself, "they'll turn her
+giddy young head."
+
+"And now," Lady Tanagra began when Bowen had taken Miss Brent's cup
+from her.  "I must explain all about this little romance and how it
+came about."
+
+Patricia caught Bowen's eye, and saw in it a look of eager interest.
+
+"Patricia wanted to do war work in her spare time," continued Lady
+Tanagra, "so she applied to the V.A.D. at St. George's Crescent.  I am
+on the committee and, by a happy chance," Lady Tanagra smiled across to
+Patricia, "she was sent to me.  I saw she was not strong and dissuaded
+her."
+
+Miss Brent nodded approval.
+
+"I explained," continued Lady Tanagra, "that the work was very hard,
+and that it was not necessarily patriotic to overwork so as to get ill.
+Doctors have quite enough to do."
+
+Again Miss Brent nodded agreement.
+
+"I think we liked each other from the first," again Lady Tanagra smiled
+across at Patricia, "and I asked her to come and have tea with me, and
+we became friends.  Finally, one day when we were enjoying a quiet talk
+here in the lounge, this big brother of mine comes along and spoils
+everything."  Lady Tanagra regarded Bowen with reproachful eyes.
+
+"Spoiled everything?" enquired Miss Brent.
+
+"Yes; by falling in love with my friend, and in a most treacherous
+manner she must do the same."  Lady Tanagra's tone was matter-of-fact
+enough to deceive a misanthropist.
+
+Patricia's cheeks burned and her eyes fell beneath the gaze of the
+others.  She felt as a man might who reads his own obituary notices.
+
+"And why was I not told, her sole surviving relative?"  Miss Brent
+rapped out the question with the air of a counsel for the prosecution.
+
+"That was my fault," broke in Bowen.
+
+Three pairs of eyes were instantly turned upon him.  Miss Brent
+suspicious, Lady Tanagra admiring, Patricia wondering.
+
+"And why, may I ask?" enquired Miss Brent.
+
+"I wanted it to be a secret between Patricia and me," explained Bowen
+easily.
+
+"But, Lady Tanagra----"  There was a note in Miss Brent's voice that
+Patricia recognised as a soldier does the gas-gong.
+
+"Oh!" replied Bowen, "she finds out everything; but I only told her at
+lunch to-day."
+
+"And he told me as if I had not already discovered the fact for
+myself," laughed Lady Tanagra.
+
+"Patricia wanted to tell you," continued Bowen.  "She has often talked
+of you (Patricia felt sure Aunt Adelaide must hear her start of
+surprise); but I wanted to wait until we could go to you together and
+confess."  Bowen smiled straight into his listener's eyes, a quiet,
+friendly smile that would have disarmed a gorgon.
+
+For a few moments there was silence.  Miss Brent was thinking, thinking
+as a judge thinks who is about to deliver sentence.
+
+"And Lady Meyfield, does she know?" she enquired.
+
+Without giving Bowen a chance to reply Lady Tanagra rushed in as if
+fearful that he might make a false move.
+
+"That is another of Peter's follies, keeping it from mother.  He argued
+that if the engagement were officially announced, the family would take
+up all Patricia's time, and he would see nothing of her.  Oh! Peter's
+very selfish sometimes, I am to say; but," she added with inspiration,
+"every thing will have to come out now."
+
+"Of course!"  Patricia started at the decision in Miss Brent's tone.
+She looked across at Bowen, who was regarding Lady Tanagra with an
+admiration that amounted almost to reverence.  As he looked up
+Patricia's eyes fell.  What was happening to her?  She was getting
+further into the net woven by her own folly.  Lady Tanagra was getting
+them out of the tangle into which they had got themselves; but was she
+not involving them in a worse?  Patricia knew her aunt, Lady Tanagra
+did not.  Therein lay the key to the whole situation.
+
+Miss Brent rose to go.  Patricia saw that judgment was to be deferred.
+She shook hands with Lady Tanagra and Bowen and, finally, turning to
+Patricia said:
+
+"I think, Patricia, that you have been very indiscreet in not taking me
+into your confidence, your sole surviving relative," and with that she
+went, having refused Lady Tanagra's offer to drive her to her hotel,
+pleading that she had another call to make.
+
+When Bowen returned from seeing Miss Brent into a taxi, the three
+culprits regarded each other.  All felt that they had come under the
+ban of Miss Brent's displeasure.  It was Lady Tanagra who broke the
+silence.
+
+"Well, we're all in it now up to the neck," she laughed.
+
+Bowen smiled happily; but Patricia looked alarmed.  Lady Tanagra went
+over to her and bending down kissed her lightly on the cheek.  Patricia
+looked up, and Bowen saw that her eyes were suspiciously moist.  With a
+murmured apology about a note he was expecting he left the room.
+
+That night the three dined at the Quadrant, "to get to know each
+other," as Lady Tanagra said.  When Patricia reached Galvin House,
+having refused to allow Bowen to see her home, she was conscious of
+having spent another happy evening.
+
+"Up to the neck in it," she murmured as she tossed back her hair and
+began to brush it for the night, "over the top of our heads, I should
+say."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+MISS BRENT'S STRATEGY
+
+Having become reconciled to what she regarded as Patricia's matrimonial
+plans, although strongly disapproving of her deplorable flippancy, Miss
+Brent decided that her niece's position must be established in the eyes
+of her prospective relatives-in-law.
+
+Miss Brent was proud of her family, but still prouder of the fact that
+the founder had come over with that extremely dubious collection of
+notables introduced into England by William of Normandy.  To Miss
+Brent, William the Conqueror was what _The Mayflower_ is to all
+ambitious Americans--a social jumping-off point.  There were no army
+lists in 1066, or passengers' lists in 1620.
+
+No one could say with any degree of certainty what it was that Geoffrey
+Brent did for, or knew about, his ducal master; but it was sufficiently
+important to gain for him a grant of lands, which he had no more right
+to occupy than the Norman had to bestow.
+
+After careful thought Miss Brent had decided upon her line of
+operations.  Geoffrey Brent was to be used as a corrective to
+Patricia's occupation.  No family, Miss Brent argued, could be expected
+to welcome with open arms a girl who earned her living as the secretary
+of an unknown member of parliament.  She foresaw complications, fierce
+opposition, possibly an attempt to break off the engagement.  To defeat
+this Geoffrey Brent was to be disinterred and flung into the conflict,
+and Patricia was to owe to her aunt the happiness that was to be hers.
+Incidentally Miss Brent saw in this circumstance a very useful
+foundation upon which to build for herself a position in the future.
+
+Miss Brent had made up her mind upon two points.  One that she would
+call upon Lady Meyfield, the other that Patricia's engagement must be
+announced.  Debrett told her all she wanted to know about the Bowens,
+and she strongly disapproved of what she termed "hole-in-the-corner
+engagements."  The marriage of a Brent to a Bowen was to her an
+alliance, carrying with it certain social responsibilities,
+consequently Society must be advised of what was impending.  Romance
+was a by-product that did not concern either Miss Brent or Society.
+
+Purpose and decision were to Miss Brent what wings and tail are to the
+swallow: they propelled and directed her.  Her mind once made up, to
+change it would have appeared to Miss Brent an unpardonable sign of
+weakness.  Circumstances might alter, thrones totter, but Miss Brent's
+decisions would remain unshaken.
+
+On the day following her meeting with Lady Tanagra and Bowen, Miss
+Brent did three things.  She transferred to "The Mayfair Hotel" for one
+night, she prepared an announcement of the engagement for _The Morning
+Post_, and she set out to call upon Lady Meyfield in Grosvenor Square.
+
+The transference to "The Mayfair Hotel" served a double purpose.  It
+would impress the people at the newspaper office, and it would also
+show that Patricia's kinswoman was of some importance.
+
+As Patricia was tapping out upon a typewriter the halting eloquence of
+Mr. Arthur Bonsor, Miss Brent was being whirled in a taxi first to the
+office of _The Morning Post_ and then on to Grosvenor Square.
+
+"I fully appreciate," tapped Patricia with wandering attention, "the
+national importance of pigs."
+
+
+"Miss Brent!" announced Lady Meyfield's butler.
+
+Miss Brent found herself gazing into a pair of violet eyes that were
+smiling a greeting out of a gentle face framed in white hair.
+
+"How do you do!"  Lady Meyfield was endeavouring to recall where she
+could have met her caller.
+
+"I felt it was time the families met," announced Miss Brent.
+
+Lady Meyfield smiled, that gentle reluctant smile so characteristic of
+her.  She was puzzled; but too well-bred to show it.
+
+"Won't you have some tea?"  She looked about her, then fixing her eyes
+upon a dark man in khaki, with smouldering eyes, called to him,
+introduced him, and had just time to say:
+
+"Godfrey, see that Miss Brent has some tea," when a rush of callers
+swept Miss Brent and Captain Godfrey Elton further into the room.
+
+Miss Brent looked about her with interest.  She had read of how Lady
+Meyfield had turned her houses, both town and country, into
+convalescent homes for soldiers; but she was surprised to see men in
+hospital garb mixing freely with the other guests.  Elton saw her
+surprise.
+
+"Lady Meyfield has her own ideas of what is best," he remarked as he
+handed her a cup of tea.
+
+Miss Brent looked up interrogatingly.
+
+"She had some difficulty at first," continued Elton; "but eventually
+she got her own way as she always does.  Now the official hospitals
+send her their most puzzling cases and she cures them."
+
+"How?" enquired Miss Brent with interest.
+
+"Imagination," said Elton, bowing to a pretty brunette at the other
+side of the room.  "She is too wise to try and fatten a canary on a dog
+biscuit."
+
+"Does she keep canaries then?" enquired Miss Brent.
+
+"I'm afraid that was only my clumsy effort at metaphor," responded
+Elton with a disarming smile.  "She adopts human methods.  They are
+generally successful."
+
+Elton went on to describe something of the success that had attended
+Lady Meyfield's hostels, as she called them.  They were famous
+throughout the Service.  When war broke out someone had suggested that
+she should use her tact and knowledge of human nature in treating cases
+that defied the army M.O.'s.  "A tyrant is the first victim of tact,"
+Godfrey Elton had said of Lord Meyfield, and in his ready acquiescence
+in his lady's plans Lord Meyfield had tacitly concurred.
+
+Lady Meyfield had conferred with her lord in respect to all her plans
+and arrangements, until he had come to regard the hostels as the
+children of his own brain, admirably controlled and conducted by his
+wife.  He seldom appeared, keeping to the one place free from the flood
+of red, white, and blue--his library.  Here with his books and
+terra-cottas he "grew old with a grace worthy of his rank," as Elton
+phrased it.
+
+Lady Meyfield's "cases" were mostly those of shell-shock, or nervous
+troubles.  She studied each patient's needs, and decided whether he
+required diversion or quiet: if diversion, he was sent to her town
+house; if quiet, he went to one of her country houses.
+
+At first it had been thought that a woman could not discipline a number
+of men; but Lady Meyfield had settled this by allowing them to
+discipline themselves.  All misdemeanours were reported to and judged
+by a committee of five elected by ballot from among the patients.
+Their decisions were referred to Lady Meyfield for ratification.  The
+result was that in no military hospital, or convalescent home, in the
+country was the discipline so good.
+
+Miss Brent listened perfunctorily to Elton's description of Lady
+Meyfield's success.  She had not come to Grosvenor Square to hear about
+hostels, or the curing of shell-shocked soldiers, and her eyes roved
+restlessly about the room.
+
+"You know Lord Peter?" she enquired at length.
+
+"Intimately," Elton replied as he took her cup from her.
+
+"Do you like him?"  Miss Brent was always direct.
+
+"Unquestionably."  Elton's tone was that of a man who found nothing
+unusual either in the matter or method of interrogation.
+
+"Is he steady?" was the next question.
+
+"As a rock," responded Elton, beginning to enjoy a novel experience.
+
+"Why doesn't he live here?" demanded Miss Brent.
+
+"Who, Peter?"
+
+Miss Brent nodded.
+
+"No room.  The soldiers, you know," he added.
+
+"No room for her own son?"  Miss Brent's tone was in itself an
+accusation against Lady Meyfield of unnaturalness.
+
+"Oh!  Peter understands," was Elton's explanation.
+
+"Oh!"  Miss Brent looked sharply at him.  For a minute there was
+silence.
+
+"You have been wounded?"  Miss Brent indicated the blue band upon his
+arm.  Her question arose, not from any interest she felt; but she
+required time in which to reorganise her attack.
+
+"I am only waiting for my final medical board, as I hope," Elton
+replied.
+
+"You know Lady Tanagra?"  Miss Brent was feeling some annoyance with
+this extremely self-possessed young man.
+
+"Yes," was Elton's reply.  He wondered if the next question would deal
+with her steadiness.
+
+"I suppose you are a friend of the family?" was Miss Brent's next
+question.
+
+Elton bowed.
+
+"Good afternoon, sir."  The speaker was a soldier in hospital blue, a
+rugged little man known among his fellows as "Uncle."
+
+"Hullo!  Uncle, how are you?" said Elton, shaking hands.
+
+Miss Brent noticed a warmth in Elton's tone that was in marked contrast
+to the even tone of courtesy with which he had answered her questions.
+
+"Oh, just 'oppin' on to 'eaven, sir," replied Uncle.  "Sort of sittin'
+up an' takin' notice."
+
+Elton introduced Uncle to Miss Brent, an act that seemed to her quite
+unnecessary.
+
+"And where were you wounded?" asked Miss Brent conventionally.
+
+"Clean through the buttocks, mum," replied Uncle simply.
+
+Miss Brent flushed and cast a swift glance at Elton, whose face showed
+no sign.  She turned to Uncle and regarded him severely; but he was
+blissfully unaware of having offended.
+
+"Can't sit down now, mum, without it 'urtin'," added Uncle,
+interpreting Miss Brent's steady gaze as betokening interest.
+
+"Oh, Goddy!  I've been trying to fight my way across to you for hours."
+The pretty brunette to whom Elton had bowed joined the group.  "I've
+been giving you the glad eye all the afternoon and you merely bow.
+Well, Uncle, how's the wound?"
+
+Miss Brent gasped.  She was unaware that Uncle's wound was the standing
+joke among all Lady Meyfield's guests.
+
+"Oh!  I'm gettin' on, thank you," said Uncle cheerfully.  "Mustn't
+complain."
+
+"Isn't he a darling?"  The girl addressed herself to Miss Brent, who
+merely stared.
+
+"Do you refer to Uncle or to me?" enquired Elton.
+
+"Why both, of course; but--" she paused and, screwing up her piquante
+little face in thought she added, "but I think Uncle's the darlinger
+though, don't you?"
+
+Again she challenged Miss Brent.
+
+"Good job my missis can't 'ear 'er," was Uncle's comment to Elton.
+
+"There, you see!" cried the girl gaily, "Uncle talks about his wife
+when I make love to him, and as for Goddy," she turned and regarded
+Elton with a quizzical expression, "he treats my passion with a look
+that clearly says prunes and prisms."
+
+Miss Brent's head was beginning to whirl.  Somewhere at the back of her
+mind was the unuttered thought, What would Little Milstead think of
+such conversation?  She was brought back to Lady Meyfield's
+drawing-room by hearing the brunette once more addressing her.
+
+"They're the two most interesting men in the room.  I call them the
+Dove and the Serpent.  Uncle has the guilelessness of the dove, whilst
+Godfrey has all the wisdom of the serpent.  The three of us together
+would make a most perfect Garden of Eden.  Wouldn't we, Goddy?"
+
+"You are getting a little confused, Peggy," said Elton.  "This is not a
+fancy dress----"
+
+"Stop him, someone!" cried the brunette, "he's going to say something
+naughty."
+
+Elton smiled, Miss Brent continued to stare, whilst Uncle with a grin
+of admiration cried:
+
+"Lor', don't she run on!"
+
+"Now come along, Uncle!" cried the girl.  "I've found some topping
+chocolates, a new kind.  They're priceless," and she dragged Uncle off
+to the end of the table.
+
+"Who was that?" demanded Miss Brent of Elton, disapproval in her look
+and tone.
+
+"Lady Peggy Bristowe," replied Elton.
+
+Miss Brent was impressed.  The Bristowes traced their ancestry so far
+back as to make William the Norman's satellites look almost upstarts.
+
+"She is a little overpowering at first, isn't she?" remarked Elton,
+smiling in spite of himself at the conflicting emotions depicted upon
+Miss Brent's face; but Lady Peggy gave her no time to reply.  She was
+back again like a shaft of April sunshine.
+
+"Here, open your mouth, Goddy," she cried, "they're delicious."
+
+Elton did as he was bid, and Lady Peggy popped a chocolate in, then
+wiping her finger and thumb daintily upon a ridiculously small piece of
+cambric, she stood in front of Elton awaiting his verdict.
+
+"Like it?" she demanded, her head on one side like a bird, and her
+whole attention concentrated upon Elton.
+
+"Apart from a suggestion of furniture polish," began Elton, "it is----"
+
+"Hun!" cried Lady Peggy as she whisked over to where she had left Uncle.
+
+"Lady Peggy is rather spoiled," said Elton to Miss Brent.  "I fear she
+trades upon having the prettiest ankles in London."
+
+Miss Brent turned upon Elton one glance, then with head in air and lips
+tightly compressed, she stalked away.  Elton watched her in surprise,
+unconscious that his casual reference to the ankles of the daughter of
+a peer had been to Miss Brent the last straw.
+
+"Hate at the prow and virtue at the helm," he murmured as she
+disappeared.
+
+Miss Brent was now convinced beyond all power of argument to the
+contrary that her call had landed her in the very midst of an
+ultra-fast set.  She was unaware that Godfrey Elton was notorious among
+his friends for saying the wrong thing to the right people.
+
+"You never know what Godfrey will say," his Aunt Caroline had remarked
+on one occasion when he had just confided to the vicar that all
+introspective women have thick ankles, "and the dear vicar is so
+sensitive."
+
+It seemed that whenever Elton elected to emerge from the mantle of
+silence with which he habitually clothed himself, it was in the
+presence of either a sensitive vicar or someone who was sensitive
+without being a vicar.
+
+Once when Lady Gilcray had rebuked him for openly admiring Jenny Adam's
+legs, which were displayed each night to an appreciative public at the
+Futility Theatre, Elton had replied, "A woman's legs are to me what
+they are to God," which had silenced her Ladyship, who was not quite
+sure whether it was rank blasphemy or a classical quotation; but she
+never forgave him.
+
+Miss Brent made several efforts to approach Lady Meyfield to have a few
+minutes' talk with her about the subject of her call; but without
+success.  She was always surrounded either by arriving or departing
+guests, and soldiers seemed perpetually hovering about ready to pounce
+upon her at the first opportunity.
+
+At last Miss Brent succeeded in attracting her hostess' attention, and
+before she knew exactly what had happened, Lady Meyfield had shaken
+hands, thanked her for coming, hoped she would come again soon, and
+Miss Brent was walking downstairs her mission unaccomplished.  Her only
+consolation was the knowledge that within the next day or two _The
+Morning Post_ would put matters upon a correct footing.
+
+A mile away Patricia was tapping out upon her typewriter that "pigs are
+the potential saviours of the Empire."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE DEFECTION OF MR. TRIGGS
+
+"Well, me dear, how goes it?"
+
+Patricia looked up from a Blue Book, from which she was laboriously
+extracting statistics.  Mr. Triggs stood before her, florid and happy.
+He was wearing a new black and white check suit, a white waistcoat and
+a red tie, whilst in his hand he carried a white felt top-hat with a
+black band.
+
+"It doesn't go at all well," said Patricia, smiling.
+
+"What's the matter, me dear?" he enquired anxiously.  "You look fagged
+out."
+
+"Oh!  I'm endeavouring to extract information about potatoes from
+stupid Blue Books," said Patricia, leaning back in her chair.  "Why
+can't they let potatoes grow without writing about them?" she asked
+plaintively, screwing up her eyebrows.
+
+"'E ain't much good, is 'e?" enquired Mr. Triggs.
+
+"Who?" asked Patricia in surprise.
+
+"A. B.," said Mr. Triggs, lowering his voice and looking round
+furtively, "Dull, 'e strikes me."
+
+"Well, you see, Mr. Triggs, he's rising, and you can't rise and be
+risen at the same time, can you?"
+
+Mr. Triggs shook his head doubtfully.  "'E'll no more rise than your
+salary, me dear," he said.
+
+"Oh! what a gloomy person you are to-day, Mr. Triggs, and you look like
+a ray of sunshine."
+
+"D'you like it?" enquired Mr. Triggs, smiling happily as he stood back
+that Patricia might obtain a good view of his new clothes.  She now saw
+that over his black boots he wore a pair of immaculate white spats.
+
+"You look just like a duke.  But where are you going, and why all this
+splendour?" asked Patricia.
+
+Mr. Triggs beamed upon her.  "I'm glad you like it, me dear.  I was
+thinking about you when I ordered it."
+
+Patricia looked up and smiled.  There was something to her strangely
+lovable in this old man's simplicity.
+
+"I come to take you to the Zoo," he announced.
+
+"To the Zoo?" cried Patricia in unfeigned surprise.
+
+Mr. Triggs nodded, hugely enjoying the effect of the announcement.
+
+"Now run away and get your hat on."
+
+"But I couldn't possibly go, I've got heaps of things to do," protested
+Patricia.  "Why Mrs. Bonsor would be----"
+
+"Never you mind about 'Ettie; I'll manage 'er.  She'll----"
+
+"I thought I heard your voice, father."
+
+Both Patricia and Mr. Triggs started guiltily; they had not heard Mrs.
+Bonsor enter the room.
+
+"'Ullo, 'Ettie!" said Mr. Triggs, recovering himself.  "I just come to
+take this young lady to the Zoo."
+
+"Do I look as bad as all that?" asked Patricia, conscious that her
+effort was a feeble one.
+
+"Don't you worry about your looks, me dear," said Mr. Triggs, "I'll
+answer for them.  Now go and get your 'at on."
+
+"But I really couldn't, Mr. Triggs," protested Patricia.
+
+"I'm afraid it's impossible for Miss Brent to go to-day, father," said
+Mrs. Bonsor evenly; but flashing a vindictive look at Patricia.
+
+"Why?" enquired Mr. Triggs.
+
+"I happen to know," continued Mrs. Bonsor, "that Arthur is very anxious
+for some work that Miss Brent is doing for him."
+
+"What work?" enquired Mr. Triggs.
+
+"Oh--er--something about----"  Mrs. Bonsor looked appealingly at
+Patricia; but Patricia had no intention of helping her out.
+
+"Well! if you can't remember what it is, it can't matter much, and I've
+set my mind on going to the Zoo this afternoon."
+
+"Very well, father.  If you will wait a few minutes I will go with you
+myself."
+
+"You!" exclaimed Mr. Triggs in consternation.  "You and me at the Zoo!
+Why you said once the smell made you sick."
+
+"Father! how can you suggest such a thing?"
+
+"But you did," persisted Mr. Triggs.
+
+"I once remarked that I found the atmosphere a little trying."
+
+"Won't you come into the morning-room, father, there's something I want
+to speak to you about."
+
+"No, I won't," snapped Mr. Triggs like a spoilt child, "I'm going to
+take Miss Brent to the Zoo."
+
+"But Arthur's work, father----" began Mrs. Bonsor.
+
+"Very well then, 'Ettie," said Mr. Triggs, "you better tell A. B. that
+I'd like to 'ave a little talk with 'im to-morrow afternoon at
+Streatham, at three o'clock sharp.  See?  Don't forget!"
+
+Mr. Triggs was angry, and Mrs. Bonsor realised that she had gone too
+far.  Turning to Patricia she said:
+
+"Do you think it would matter if you put off what you are doing until
+to-morrow, Miss Brent?" she enquired.
+
+"I think I ought to do it now, Mrs. Bonsor," replied Patricia demurely,
+determined to land Mrs. Bonsor more deeply into the mire if possible.
+
+"Well, if you'll run away and get your hat on, I will explain to Mr.
+Bonsor when he comes in."
+
+Patricia looked up, Mrs. Bonsor smiled at her, a frosty movement of her
+lips, from which her eyes seemed to dissociate themselves.
+
+During Patricia's absence Mr. Triggs made it abundantly clear to his
+daughter that he was displeased with her.
+
+"Look 'ere, 'Ettie, if I 'ear any more of this nonsense," he said,
+"I'll take on Miss Brent as my own secretary, then I can take her to
+the Zoo every afternoon if I want to."
+
+A look of fear came into Mrs. Bonsor's eyes.  One of the terrors of her
+life was that some designing woman would get hold of her father and
+marry him.  It did not require a very great effort of the imagination
+to foresee that the next step would be the cutting off of the allowance
+Mr. Triggs made his daughter.  Suppose Patricia were to marry her
+father?  What a scandal and what a humiliation to be the stepdaughter
+of her husband's ex-secretary.  Mrs. Bonsor determined to capitulate.
+
+"I'm very sorry, father; but if you had let us know we could have
+arranged differently.  However, everything is all right now."
+
+"No, it isn't," said Mr. Triggs peevishly.  "You've tried to spoil my
+afternoon.  Fancy you a-coming to the Zoo with me.  You with your 'igh
+and mighty ways.  The truth is you're ashamed of your old father,
+although you ain't ashamed of 'is money."
+
+It was with a feeling of gratitude that Mrs. Bonsor heard Patricia
+enter the room.
+
+"I'm ready, Mr. Triggs," she announced, smiling.
+
+Mr. Triggs followed her out of the room without a word.
+
+"You'll explain to Mr. Bonsor that I've been kidnapped, will you not?"
+said Patricia to Mrs. Bonsor, rather from the feeling that something
+should be said than from any particular desire that Mr. Bonsor should
+be placated.
+
+"Certainly, Miss Brent," replied Mrs. Bonsor, with another unconvincing
+smile.  "I hope you'll have a pleasant afternoon."
+
+"Tried to spoil my afternoon, she did," mumbled Mr. Triggs in the tone
+of a child who has discovered that a playmate has endeavoured to rob
+him of his marbles.
+
+Patricia laughed and, slipping her hand through his arm, said:
+
+"Now, you mustn't be cross, or else you'll spoil my afternoon, and
+we're going to have such a jolly time together."
+
+Instantly the shadow fell from Mr. Triggs's face and he turned upon
+Patricia and beamed, pressing her hand against his side.  Then with
+another sudden change he said, "'Ettie annoys me when she's like that;
+but I've given 'er something to think about," he added, pleased at the
+recollection of his parting shot.
+
+Patricia smiled at him, she never made any endeavour to probe into the
+domestic difficulties of the Triggs-Bonsor menage.
+
+"Do you know what I told 'er?" enquired Mr. Triggs.
+
+Patricia shook her head.
+
+"I said that if she wasn't careful I'd engage you as my own secretary.
+That made 'er sit up."  He chuckled at the thought of his master-stroke.
+
+"But you've got nothing for me to secretary, Mr. Triggs," said
+Patricia, not quite understanding where the joke came.
+
+"Ah!  'Ettie understands.  'Ettie knows that every man that ain't
+married marries 'is secretary, and she's dead afraid of me marrying."
+
+"Am I to take that as a proposal, Mr. Triggs?" asked Patricia demurely.
+
+Mr. Triggs chuckled.
+
+"Now we'll forget about everything except that we are truants," cried
+Patricia.  "I've earned a holiday, I think.  On Sunday and Monday there
+was Aunt Adelaide, yesterday it was national importance of pigs and----"
+
+"Hi!  Hi!  Taxi!  Taxi!" Mr. Triggs yelled, dashing forward and
+dragging Patricia after him.  A taxi was crossing a street about twenty
+yards distance.  Mr. Triggs was impulsive in all things.
+
+Having secured the taxi and handed Patricia in, he told the man to
+drive to the Zoo, and sank back with a sigh of pleasure.
+
+"Now we're going to 'ave a very 'appy afternoon, me dear," he said.
+"Don't you worry about pigs."
+
+Arrived at the Zoo, Mr. Triggs made direct for the monkey-house.
+Patricia, a little puzzled at his choice, followed obediently.  Arrived
+there he walked round the cages, looking keenly at the animals.
+Finally selecting a little monkey with a blue face, he pointed it out
+to Patricia.
+
+"They was just like that little chap," he said eagerly.  "That one over
+there, see 'im eating a nut?"
+
+"Yes, I see him," said Patricia; "but who was just like him?"
+
+"I'll tell you when we get outside.  Now come along."
+
+Patricia followed Mr. Triggs, puzzled to account for his strange manner
+and sudden lack of interest in the monkey-house.  They walked along for
+some minutes in silence, then, when they came to a quiet spot, Mr.
+Triggs turned to Patricia.
+
+"You see, me dear," he said, "it was there that I asked her."
+
+"That you asked who what?" enquired Patricia, utterly at a loss.
+
+"You see we'd been walking out for nearly a year; I was a foreman then.
+I 'ad tickets given me for the Zoo one Sunday, so I took 'er.  When we
+was in the monkey-house there was a couple of little chaps just like
+that blue-faced little beggar we saw just now."  There was a note of
+affection in Mr. Triggs's voice as he spoke of the little blue-faced
+monkey.  "And one of 'em 'ad 'is arm round the other and was a-making
+love to 'er as 'ard as ever 'e could go," continued Mr. Triggs.  "And I
+says to Emily, just to see 'ow she'd take it, 'That might be you an'
+me, Emily,' and she blushed and looked down, and then of course I knew,
+and I asked 'er to marry me.  I don't think either of us 'ad cause to
+regret it," added the old man huskily.  "God knows I 'adn't."
+
+Patricia felt that she wanted both to laugh and to cry.  She could say
+nothing, words seemed so hopelessly inadequate.
+
+"You see this is our wedding-day, that's why I wanted to come,"
+continued Mr. Triggs, blinking his eyes, in which there was a
+suspicious moisture.
+
+"Oh! thank you so much for bringing me," said Patricia, and she knew as
+she saw the bright smile with which Mr. Triggs looked at her that she
+had said the right thing.
+
+"Thirty years and never a cross word," he murmured.  "She'd 'ave liked
+you, me dear," he added; "she 'ad wonderful instinct, and everybody
+loved her.  'Ere, but look at me," he suddenly broke off, "spoilin'
+your afternoon, and you lookin' so tired.  Come along," and Mr. Triggs
+trotted off in the direction of the seals, who were intimating clearly
+that they thought that something must be wrong with the official clock.
+They were quite ready for their meal.
+
+For two hours Patricia and Mr. Triggs wandered about the Zoo, roving
+from one group of animals to another, behaving rather like two children
+who had at last escaped from the bondage of the school-room.
+
+After tea they strolled through Regent's Park, watching the squirrels
+and talking about the thousand and one things that good comrades have
+to talk about.  Mr. Triggs told something of his early struggles, how
+his wife had always believed in him and been his helpmate and loyal
+comrade, how he missed her, and how, when she had died, she had urged
+him to marry again.
+
+"Sam," she had said, "you want a woman to look after you; you're
+nothing but a great, big baby."
+
+"And she was right, me dear," said Mr. Triggs huskily, "she was right
+as she always was, only she didn't know that there couldn't ever be
+anyone after 'er."
+
+Slowly and tactfully Patricia guided the old man's thoughts away from
+the sad subject of his wife's death, and soon had him laughing gaily at
+some stories she had heard the night previously from the Bowens.  Mr.
+Triggs was as easily diverted from sadness to laughter as a child.
+
+It was half-past seven when they left the Park gates, and Patricia,
+looking suddenly at her wristlet watch, cried out, "Oh!  I shall be
+late for dinner, I must fly!"
+
+"You're going to dine with me, me dear," announced Mr. Triggs.
+
+"Oh, but I can't," said Patricia; "I--I----"
+
+"Why can't you?"
+
+"Well, I haven't told Mrs. Craske-Morton."
+
+"Who's she?" enquired Mr. Triggs.
+
+"Of course it doesn't matter, how stupid of me," said Patricia; "I
+should love to dine with you, Mr. Triggs, if you will let me."
+
+"That's all right," said Mr. Triggs, heaving a sigh of relief.
+
+They walked down Portland Place and Regent Street until they reached
+the Quadrant.
+
+"We'll 'ave dinner in the Grill-room at the Quadrant," announced Mr.
+Triggs, with the air of a man who knows his way about town.
+
+"Oh, no, not there, please!" cried Patricia, in a panic.
+
+"Not there!" Mr. Triggs looked at her, surprise and disappointment in
+his voice.  "Why not?"
+
+"Oh!  I'd sooner not go there if you don't mind.  Couldn't we go
+somewhere else?"
+
+For a moment Mr. Triggs did not reply.
+
+"There's someone there I don't want to meet," said Patricia, then a
+moment afterwards she realised her mistake.  Mr. Triggs looked down at
+his clothes.
+
+"I suppose they are a bit out of it for the evening," he remarked in a
+hurt voice.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Triggs, how could you?" said Patricia.  "Now I shall insist on
+dining in the Quadrant Grill-room.  If you won't come with me I'll go
+alone."
+
+"Not if you don't want to go, me dear, it doesn't matter.  Though I do
+like to 'ear the band.  We can go anywhere."
+
+"No, Quadrant or nothing," said Patricia, hoping that Bowen would be
+dining out.
+
+"Are you sure, me dear?" said Mr. Triggs, hesitating on the threshold.
+
+"Nothing will change me," announced Patricia, with decision.  "Now you
+can see about getting a table while I go and powder my nose."
+
+When Patricia rejoined Mr. Triggs in the vestibule of the Grill-room he
+was looking very unhappy and downcast.
+
+"There ain't a table nowhere," he said.
+
+"Oh, what a shame!" cried Patricia.  "Whatever shall we do?"
+
+"I don't know," said Mr. Triggs helplessly.
+
+"Are you sure?" persisted Patricia.
+
+"That red-'eaded fellow over there said there wasn't nothing to be 'ad."
+
+"I am sorry," said Patricia, seeing Triggs's disappointment.  "I
+suppose we shall have to go somewhere else after all."
+
+"Won't you and your friend share my table, Patricia?"
+
+Patricia turned round as if someone had hit her, her face flaming.
+"Oh!" she cried.  "You?"
+
+"I have a table booked, and if you will dine with me you will be
+conferring a real favour upon a lonely fellow-creature."
+
+Bowen smiled from Patricia to Mr. Triggs, who was looking at him in
+surprise.
+
+"Oh! where are my manners?" cried Patricia as she introduced the two
+men.
+
+Mr. Triggs's eyes bulged at the mention of Bowen's title.
+
+"Now, Mr. Triggs," said Bowen, "won't you add the weight of your
+persuasion to mine, and persuade Miss Brent that the only thing to do
+is for you both to dine with me and save me from boredom?"
+
+"Well, it was to 'ave been my treat," said Mr. Triggs, not quite sure
+of his ground.
+
+"But you can afford to be generous.  Can't you share her with me, just
+for this evening?"
+
+Mr. Triggs beamed and turned questioningly to Patricia, who, seeing
+that if she declined it would be a real disappointment to him, said:
+
+"Well, I suppose we must under the circumstances."
+
+"You're not very gracious, Patricia, are you?" said Bowen comically.
+
+Patricia laughed.  "Well, come along, I'm starving," she said.
+
+Many heads were turned to look at the curious trio, headed by the
+obsequious maitre d'hotel, as they made their way towards Bowen's table.
+
+"I wonder what 'Ettie would say," whispered Mr. Triggs to Patricia, "me
+dining with a lord, and 'im being a pal of yours, too."
+
+Patricia smiled.  She was wondering what trick Fate would play her next.
+
+The meal was a gay one.  Bowen and Mr. Triggs immediately became
+friends and pledged each other in champagne.
+
+Mr. Triggs told of their visit to the Zoo and of the anniversary it
+celebrated.
+
+"Then you are a believer in marriage, Mr. Triggs," said Bowen.
+
+"A believer in it!  I should just think I am," said Mr. Triggs.  "I
+wish she'd get married," he added, nodding his head in the direction of
+Patricia.
+
+"She's going to," said Bowen quietly.
+
+Mr. Triggs sat up as if someone had hit him in the small of the back.
+
+"Going to," he cried.  "Who's the man?"
+
+"You have just pledged him in Moet and Chandon," replied Bowen quietly.
+
+"You going to marry 'er?"  Unconsciously Mr. Triggs raised his voice in
+his surprise, and several people at adjacent tables turned and looked
+at the trio.
+
+"Hush!  Mr. Triggs," said Patricia, feeling her cheeks burn.  Bowen
+merely smiled.
+
+"Well I _am_ glad," said Mr. Triggs heartily, and seizing Bowen's hand
+he shook it cordially.  "God bless my soul!" he added, "and you never
+told me."  He turned reproachful eyes upon Patricia.
+
+"It--it----" she began.
+
+"You see, it's only just been arranged," said Bowen.
+
+Patricia flashed him a grateful look, he seemed always to be coming to
+her rescue.
+
+"God bless my soul!" repeated Mr. Triggs.  "But you'll be 'appy, both
+of you, I'll answer for that."
+
+"Then I may take it that you're on my side, Mr. Triggs," said Bowen.
+
+"On your side?" queried Mr. Triggs, not understanding.
+
+"Yes," said Bowen, "you see Patricia believes in long engagements,
+whereas I believe in short ones.  I want her to marry me at once; but
+she will not.  She wants to wait until we are both too old to enjoy
+each other's society, and she is too deaf to hear me say how charming
+she is."
+
+"If you love each other you'll never be too old to enjoy each other's
+company," said Mr. Triggs seriously.  "Still, I'm with you," he added,
+"and I'll do all I can to persuade 'er to hurry on the day."
+
+"Oh, Mr. Triggs!" cried Patricia reproachfully, "you have gone over to
+the enemy."
+
+"I think he has merely placed himself on the side of the angels," said
+Bowen.
+
+"And now," said Mr. Triggs, "you must both of you dine with me one
+night to celebrate the event.  Oh Lor'!" he exclaimed.  "What will
+'Ettie say?"  Then turning to Bowen he added oy way of explanation,
+"'Ettie's my daughter, rather stiff, she is.  She looks down on Miss
+Brent because she's only A. B.'s secretary.  'Ettie's got to learn a
+lot about the world," he added oracularly.  "My, this'll be a shock to
+'er."
+
+"I'm afraid I can't----" began Patricia.
+
+"You're not going to say you can't both dine with me?" said Mr. Triggs,
+blankly disappointed.
+
+"I think Patricia will reconsider her decision," said Bowen quietly.
+"She wouldn't be so selfish as to deny two men an evening's happiness."
+
+"She's one of the best," said Mr. Triggs, with decision.
+
+"Mr. Triggs, I think you and I have at least one thing in common," said
+Bowen.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+A BOMBSHELL
+
+"Good morning, Miss Brent."
+
+Patricia was surprised at the graciousness of Mrs. Bonsor's salutation,
+particularly after the episode of the Zoo on the previous afternoon.
+
+"Good morning," she responded, and made to go upstairs to take off her
+hat and coat.
+
+"I congratulate you," proceeded Mrs. Bonsor in honeyed tones; "but I'm
+just a little hurt that you did not confide in me."  Mrs. Bonsor's tone
+was that of a trusted friend of many years' standing.
+
+"Confide!" repeated Patricia in a matter-of-fact tone.  "Confide what,
+Mrs. Bonsor?"
+
+"Your engagement to Lord Peter Bowen.  Such a surprise.  You're a very
+lucky girl.  I hope you'll bring Lord Peter to call."
+
+Patricia listened mechanically to Mrs. Bonsor's inanities.  Suddenly
+she realised their import.  What had happened?  How did she know?  Had
+Mr. Triggs told her?
+
+"How did you know?" Patricia enquired.
+
+"Haven't you seen _The Morning Post_?" enquired Mrs. Bonsor.
+
+"_The Morning Post_!" repeated Patricia, in consternation; "but--but I
+don't understand."
+
+"Then isn't it true?" enquired Mrs. Bonsor, scenting a mystery.
+
+"I--I----" began Patricia, then with inspiration added, "I must be
+getting on, I've got a lot to do to make up for yesterday."
+
+"But isn't it true, Miss Brent?" persisted Mrs. Bonsor.
+
+Then from half-way up the stairs Patricia turned and, in a spurt of
+mischief, cried, "If you see it in _The Morning Post_ it is so, Mrs.
+Bonsor."
+
+When Patricia entered the library Mr. Bonsor was fussing about with
+letters and papers, a habit he had when nervous.
+
+"I'm so sorry about yesterday afternoon, Mr. Bonsor," said Patricia;
+"but Mrs. Bonsor seemed to wish me to----"
+
+"Not at all, not at all, Miss Brent," said Mr. Bonsor nervously.
+"I--I----" then he paused.
+
+"I know what you're going to say, Mr. Bonsor, but please don't say it."
+
+Mr. Bonsor looked at her in surprise.  "Not say it?" he said.
+
+"Oh! everybody's congratulating me, and I'm tired.  Shall we get on
+with the letters?"
+
+Mr. Bonsor was disappointed.  He had prepared a dainty little speech of
+congratulation, which he had intended to deliver as Patricia entered
+the room.  Mr. Bonsor was always preparing speeches which he never
+delivered.  There was not an important matter that had been before the
+House since he had represented Little Dollington upon which he had not
+prepared a speech.  He had criticised every member of the Government
+and Opposition.  He had prepared party speeches and anti-party
+speeches, patriotic speeches and speeches of protest.  He had called
+upon the House of Commons to save the country, and upon the country to
+save the House of Commons.  He had woven speeches of splendid optimism
+and speeches of gloomy foreboding.  He had attacked ministers and
+defended ministers, seen himself attacked and had routed his enemies.
+He had prepared speeches to be delivered to his servants for domestic
+misdemeanour, speeches for Mr. Triggs, even for Mrs. Bonsor.
+
+He had conceived speeches on pigs, speeches on potatoes, speeches on
+oil-cake, and speeches on officers' wives; in short, there was nothing
+in the world of his thoughts about which he had not prepared a speech.
+The one thing he did not do was to deliver these speeches.  They were
+wonderful things of his imagination, which seemed to defy
+crystallization into words.  So it was with the speech of
+congratulation that he had prepared for Patricia.
+
+That morning Patricia was distraite.  Her thoughts continued to wander
+to _The Morning Post_ announcement, and she was anxious to get out to
+lunch in order to purchase a copy and see what was actually said.  Then
+her thoughts ran on to who was responsible for such an outrage; for
+Patricia regarded it as an outrage.  It was obviously Bowen who had
+done it in order to make her position still more ridiculous.  It was
+mean, she was not sure that it was not contemptible.
+
+Patricia was in the act of transcribing some particulars about infant
+mortality in England and Wales compared with that of Scotland, when the
+parlourmaid entered with a note.  Mr. Bonsor stretched out his hand for
+it.
+
+"It is for Miss Brent, sir," said the maid.
+
+Patricia looked up in surprise.  It was unusual for her to receive a
+note at the Bonsors'.  She opened the envelope mechanically and read:--
+
+
+"DEAREST,
+
+"I have just seen _The Morning Post_.  It is sweet of you to relent.
+You have made me very happy.  Will you dine with me to-night and when
+may I take you to Grosvenor Square?  My mother will want to see her new
+daughter-in-law.
+
+"I so enjoyed last night.  Surely the gods are on my side.
+
+"PETER."
+
+
+Patricia read and re-read the note.  For a moment she felt ridiculously
+happy, then, with a swift change of mood she saw the humiliation of her
+situation.  Bowen thought it was she who had inserted the notice of the
+engagement.  What must he think of her?  It looked as if she had done
+it to burn his boats behind him.  Then suddenly she seized a pen and
+wrote:--
+
+
+"DEAR LORD PETER,
+
+"I know nothing whatever about the announcement in _The Morning Post_,
+and I only heard of it when I arrived here.  I cannot dine with you
+to-night, and I am very angry and upset that anyone should have had the
+impertinence to interfere in my affairs.  I shall take up the matter
+with _The Morning Post_ people and insist on a contradiction
+immediately.
+
+"Yours sincerely,
+  "PATRICIA BRENT."
+
+
+With quick, decisive movements Patricia folded the note, addressed the
+envelope and handed it to the maid, then she turned to Mr. Bonsor.
+
+"I am sorry to interrupt work, Mr. Bonsor; but that was rather an
+important note that I had to answer."
+
+Mr. Bonsor smiled sympathetically.
+
+At lunch-time Patricia purchased a copy of _The Morning Post_, and
+there saw in all its unblushing mendacity the announcement.
+
+
+"A marriage has been arranged and will shortly take place between Lord
+Peter Bowen, D.S.O., M.C., attached to the General Staff, son of the
+7th Marquess of Meyfield, and Patricia Brent, daughter of the late John
+Brent, of Little Milstead."
+
+
+"Why on earth must the ridiculous people put it at the top of the
+column?" she muttered aloud.  A man occupying an adjoining table at the
+place where she was lunching turned and looked at her.
+
+"And now I must go back to potatoes, pigs, and babies," said Patricia
+to herself as she paid her bill and rose.  "Ugh!"
+
+She had scarcely settled down to her afternoon's work when the maid
+entered and announced, "Lord Peter Bowen to see you, miss."
+
+"Oh bother!" exclaimed Patricia.  "Tell him I'm busy, will you please?"
+
+The maid's jaw dropped; she was excellently trained, but no
+maid-servant could be expected to rise superior to such an
+extraordinary attitude on the part of a newly-engaged girl.  Nothing
+short of a butler who had lived in the best families could have risen
+to such an occasion.
+
+"But, Miss Brent----" began Mr. Bonsor.
+
+Patricia turned and froze him with a look.
+
+"Will you give him my message, please, Fellers?" she said, and Fellers
+walked out a disillusioned young woman.
+
+Two minutes later Mrs. Bonsor entered the room, flushed and excited.
+
+"Oh, Miss Brent, that silly girl has muddled up things somehow!  Lord
+Peter Bowen is waiting for you in the morning-room.  I have just been
+talking to him and saying that I hope you will both dine with us one
+day next week."
+
+"The message was quite correct, Mrs. Bonsor.  I am very busy with pigs,
+and babies, and potatoes.  I really cannot add Lord Peter to my
+responsibilities at the moment."
+
+Mrs. Bonsor looked at Patricia as if she had suddenly gone mad.
+
+"But Miss Brent-----" began Mrs. Bonsor, scandalised.
+
+"I suppose I shall have to see him," said Patricia, rising with the air
+of one who has to perform an unpleasant task.  "I wish he'd stay at the
+War Office and leave me to do my work.  I suppose I shall have to write
+to Lord Derby about it."
+
+Mrs. Bonsor glanced at Mr. Bonsor, who, however, was busily engaged in
+preparing an appropriate speech upon War Office methods, suggested by
+Patricia's remark about Lord Derby.
+
+As Patricia entered the morning-room, Bowen came forward.
+
+"Oh, Patricia! why will you persist in being a cold douche?  Why this
+morning I absolutely scandalised Peel by singing at the top of my voice
+whilst in my bath, and now.  Look at me now!"
+
+Patricia looked at him, then she was forced to laugh.  He presented
+such a woebegone appearance.
+
+"But what on earth have I to do with your singing in your bath?" she
+enquired.
+
+"It was _The Morning Post_ paragraph.  I thought everything was going
+to be all right after last night, and now I'm a door-mat again."
+
+"Who inserted that paragraph?" enquired Patricia.
+
+"I rang up _The Morning Post_ office and they told me that it was
+handed in by Miss Brent, who is staying at the Mayfair Hotel."
+
+"Aunt Adelaide!"  There was a depth of meaning in Patricia's tone as
+she uttered the two words, then turning to Bowen she enquired, "Did you
+tell them to contradict it?"
+
+"They asked me whether it were correct," he said, refusing to meet
+Patricia's eyes.
+
+"What did you say?"
+
+"I said it was."  He looked at her quizzically, like a boy who is
+expecting a severe scolding.  Patricia had to bite her lips to prevent
+herself from laughing.
+
+"You told _The Morning Post_ people that it was correct when you knew
+that it was wrong?"
+
+Bowen hung his head.  "But it isn't wrong," he muttered.
+
+"You know very well that it is wrong and that I am not engaged to you,
+and that no marriage has been arranged or ever will be arranged.  Now I
+shall have to write to the editor and insist upon the statement being
+contradicted."
+
+"Good Lord!  Don't do that, Patricia," broke in Bowen.  "They'll think
+we've all gone mad."
+
+"And for once a newspaper editor will be right," was Patricia's comment.
+
+"And will you dine to-night, Pat?"
+
+Patricia looked up.  This was the first time Bowen had used the
+diminutive of her name.  Somehow it sounded very intimate.
+
+"I am afraid I have an--an----"
+
+The hesitation was her undoing.
+
+"No; don't tell me fibs, please.  You will dine with me and then,
+afterwards, we will go on and see the mater.  She is dying to know you."
+
+How boyish and lover-like Bowen was in spite of his twenty-eight years,
+and--and--how different everything might have been if----  Patricia was
+awakened from her thoughts by hearing Bowen say:
+
+"Shall I pick you up here in the car?"
+
+"No, I--I've just told you I am engaged," she said.
+
+"And I've just told you that I won't allow you to be engaged to anyone
+but me," was Bowen's answer.  "If you won't come and dine with me I'll
+come and play my hooter outside Galvin House until they send you out to
+get rid of me.  You know, Patricia, I'm an awful fellow when I've set
+my mind on anything, and I'm simply determined to marry you whether you
+like it or not."
+
+"Very well, I will dine with you to-night at half-past seven."
+
+"I'll pick you up at Galvin House at a quarter-past seven with the car."
+
+"Very well," said Patricia wearily.  It seemed ridiculous to try and
+fight against her fate, and at the back of her mind she had a plan of
+action, which she meant to put into operation.
+
+"Now I must get back to my work.  Good-bye."
+
+Bowen opened the door of the morning-room.  Mrs. Bonsor was in the
+hall.  Patricia walked over to the library, leaving Bowen in Mrs.
+Bonsor's clutches.
+
+"Oh, Lord Peter!" Mrs. Bonsor gushed.  "I hope you and Miss Brent will
+dine with us----"
+
+Patricia shut the library door without waiting to hear Bowen's reply.
+
+At five o'clock she gave up the unequal struggle with infant mortality
+statistics and walked listlessly across the Park to Galvin House.  She
+was tired and dispirited.  It was the weather, she told herself, London
+in June could be very trying, then there had been all that fuss over
+_The Morning Post_ announcement.  At Galvin House she knew the same
+ordeal was awaiting her that she had passed through at Eaton Square.
+Mrs. Craske-Morton would be effusive, Miss Wangle would unbend, Miss
+Sikkum would simper, Mr. Bolton would be facetious, and all the others
+would be exactly what they had been all their lives, only a little more
+so as a result of _The Morning Post_ paragraph.
+
+Only the fact of Miss Wangle taking breakfast in bed had saved Patricia
+from the ordeal at breakfast.  Miss Wangle was the only resident at
+Galvin House who regularly took _The Morning Post_, it being "the dear
+bishop's favourite paper."
+
+Arrived at Galvin House Patricia went straight to her room.  Dashing
+past Gustave, who greeted her with "Oh, mees!" struggling at the same
+time to extract from his pocket a newspaper.  Patricia felt that she
+should scream.  Had everyone in Galvin House bought a copy of that
+day's _Morning Post_, and would they all bring it out of their pockets
+and point out the passage to her?  She sighed wearily.
+
+Suddenly she jumped up from the bed where she had thrown herself,
+seized her writing-case and proceeded to write feverishly.  At the end
+of half an hour she read and addressed three letters, stamping two of
+them.  The first was to the editor of _The Morning Post_, and ran:--
+
+
+"DEAR SIR,
+
+"In your issue of to-day's date you make an announcement regarding a
+marriage having been arranged between Lord Peter Bowen and myself,
+which is entirely inaccurate.
+
+"I am given to understand that this announcement was inserted on the
+authority of my aunt, Miss Adelaide Brent, and I must leave you to take
+what action you choose in relation to her.  As for myself, I will ask
+you to be so kind as to insert a contradiction of the statement in your
+next issue.
+
+"I am,
+  "Yours faithfully,
+    "PATRICIA BRENT."
+
+
+Patricia always prided herself on the business-like quality of her
+letters.
+
+The second letter was to Miss Brent.  It ran:--
+
+
+"DEAR AUNT ADELAIDE,
+
+"I have written to the editor of _The Morning Post_ informing him that
+he must take such action as he sees fit against you for inserting your
+unauthorised statement that a marriage has been arranged between Lord
+Peter Bowen and me.  It may interest you to know that the engagement
+has been broken off as a result of your impulsive and ill-advised
+action.  Personally I think you have rather presumed on being my 'sole
+surviving relative.'
+
+"Your affectionate niece,
+  "PATRICIA."
+
+
+The third letter was to Bowen.
+
+
+"DEAR LORD PETER,
+
+"I have written to the editor of _The Morning Post_, asking him to
+contradict the inaccurate statement published in to-day's issue.  I am
+consumed with humiliation that such a thing should have been sent to
+him by a relative of mine, more particularly by a 'sole surviving
+relative.'  My aunt unfortunately epitomises in her personality all the
+least desirable characteristics to be found in relatives.
+
+"I cannot tell you how sorry I am about--oh, everything!  If you really
+want to save me from feeling thoroughly ashamed of myself you will not
+only forget me, but also a certain incident.
+
+"You have done me a great honour, I know, and you will add to it a
+great service if you will do as I ask and forget all about a folly that
+I have had cause bitterly to regret.
+
+"Please forgive me for not dining with you to-night and for breaking my
+word; but I am feeling very unwell and tired and I have gone to bed.
+
+"Yours sincerely,
+  "PATRICIA BRENT."
+
+
+Patricia's plan was to post the letters to Aunt Adelaide and _The
+Morning Post_, and leave the other with Gustave to be given to Bowen
+when he called, she would then shut herself in her room and plead a
+headache as an excuse for not being disturbed.  Thus she would escape
+Miss Wangle and her waves of interrogation.
+
+As Patricia descended the stairs, Gustave was in the act of throwing
+open the door to Lady Tanagra.  It was too late to retreat.
+
+"Ah! there you are," exclaimed Lady Tanagra as she passed the
+respectful Gustave in the hall.
+
+Patricia descended the remaining stairs slowly and with dragging steps.
+Lady Tanagra looked at her sharply.
+
+"Aren't we a nuisance?" cried she.  "There's nothing more persistent in
+nature than a Bowen.  Bruce's spider is quite a parochial affair in
+comparison," and she laughed lightly.
+
+Patricia smiled as she welcomed Lady Tanagra.  For a moment she
+hesitated at the door of the lounge, then with a sudden movement she
+turned towards the stairs.
+
+"Come up to my room," she said, "we can talk there."
+
+There was no cordiality in her voice.  Lady Tanagra noticed that she
+looked worn-out and ill.  Once the bedroom door was closed she turned
+to Patricia.
+
+"My poor Patricia! whatever is the matter?  You look thoroughly done
+up.  Now lie down on the bed like a good girl, and I will assume my
+best bedside manner."
+
+Patricia shook her head wearily, and indicating a chair by the window,
+seated herself upon the bed.
+
+"I'm afraid I am rather tired," she said.  "I was just going to lock
+myself up for the night."
+
+"Now I'm going to cheer you up," cried Lady Tanagra.  "Was there ever a
+more tactless way of beginning, but I've got something to tell you that
+is so exquisitely funny that it would cheer up an oyster, or even a
+radical."
+
+"First," said Patricia, "I think I should like you to read these
+letters."  Slowly and wearily she ripped open the three letters and
+handed them to Lady Tanagra, who read them through slowly and
+deliberately.  This done, she folded each carefully, returned it to its
+envelope and handed them to Patricia.
+
+"Well!" said Patricia.
+
+Lady Tanagra smiled.  Reaching across to the dressing-table she took a
+cigarette from Patricia's box and proceeded to light it.  Patricia
+watched her curiously.
+
+"I think you must have been meant for a man, Tanagra," she said after a
+pause.  "You have the gift of silence, and nothing is more provoking to
+a woman."
+
+"What do you want me to say?" enquired Lady Tanagra.  "I like these
+cigarettes," she added.
+
+"If you are not careful, you'll make me scream in a minute," said
+Patricia, with a smile.  "I showed you those letters and now you don't
+even so much as say 'thank you.'"
+
+"Thank you very much indeed, Patricia," said Lady Tanagra meekly.
+
+"You don't approve of them?"  There was undisguised challenge in
+Patricia's voice.
+
+"I think the one to Miss Brent is admirable, specially if you will add
+a postscript after what I tell you."
+
+"But the other two," persisted Patricia.
+
+"I do not think I am qualified to express an opinion, am I?" said Lady
+Tanagra calmly.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Well, you see, I am an interested party."
+
+"You!" cried Patricia, then with a sudden change, "Oh, if you are not
+careful I shall come over and shake you!"
+
+"I think that would be very good for both of us," was Lady Tanagra's
+reply.
+
+"Tell me what you mean," persisted Patricia.
+
+"Well, in the first place, the one to the editor of _The Morning Post_
+will make poor Peter ridiculous, and the other will hurt his feelings,
+and as I am very fond of Peter you cannot expect me to be enthusiastic
+with either of them, can you?"
+
+Lady Tanagra rose and going over to Patricia put her arm round her and
+kissed her on the cheek, then Patricia did a very foolish thing.
+Without a word of warning she threw her arms around Lady Tanagra's neck
+and burst into tears.
+
+"Oh, I'm so wretched, Tanagra!  I know I'm a beast and I want to hurt
+everybody and every thing.  I think I should like to hurt you even,"
+she cried, her mood of crying passing as quickly as it had come.
+
+"Don't you think we had better just talk the thing out?  Now since you
+have asked my view," continued Lady Tanagra, "I will give it.  Your
+letter to _The Morning Post_ people will make poor Peter the
+laughing-stock of London.  He has many enemies among ambitious mamas.
+Never have I known him to be attracted towards a girl until you came
+along.  He's really paying you a very great compliment."
+
+Patricia sniffed ominously.
+
+"Then the letter to Peter would hurt him because--you must forgive
+me--it is rather brutal, isn't it?"
+
+Patricia nodded her head vigorously.
+
+"Well," continued Lady Tanagra, "what do you say if we destroy them
+both?"
+
+"But--but--that would leave _The Morning Post_ announcement and
+P-Peter----"
+
+"Don't you think they might both be left, just for the moment?  Later
+you can wipe the floor with them."
+
+"But--but--you don't understand, Tanagra," began Patricia.
+
+"Don't you think that half the troubles of the world are due to people
+wanting to understand?" said Lady Tanagra calmly.  "I never want to
+understand.  There are certain things I know and these are sufficient
+for me.  In this case I know that I have a very good brother and he
+wants to marry a very good girl; but for some reason she won't have
+anything to do either with him or with me."  She looked up into
+Patricia's face with a smile so wholly disarming that Patricia was
+forced to laugh.
+
+"If you knew Patricia's opinion of herself," she said to Lady Tanagra,
+"you would be almost shocked."
+
+"Well, now, will you do something just to please me?" insinuated Lady
+Tanagra.  "You see this big brother of mine has always been more or
+less my adopted child, and you have it in your power to hurt him more
+than I want to see him hurt."  There was an unusually serious note in
+Lady Tanagra's voice.  "Why not let things go on as they are for the
+present, then later the engagement can be broken off if you wish it.
+I'll speak to Peter and see that he is not tiresome."
+
+"Oh, but he's never been that!" protested Patricia, then she stopped
+suddenly in confusion.
+
+Lady Tanagra smiled to herself.
+
+"Well, if he's never been tiresome I'm sure you wouldn't like to hurt
+him, would you?"  She was speaking as if to a child.
+
+"The only person I want to hurt is Aunt Adelaide," said Patricia with a
+laugh.
+
+Lady Tanagra noticed with pleasure that the mood seemed to be dropping
+from her.
+
+"Well, may I be the physician for to-day?" continued Lady Tanagra.
+
+Patricia nodded her head.
+
+"Very well, then, I prescribe a dinner this evening with one Tanagra
+Bowen, Peter Bowen and Godfrey Elton, on the principle of 'Eat thou and
+drink, to-morrow thou shalt die.'"
+
+"Who is Godfrey Elton?" asked Patricia with interest.
+
+"My dear Patricia, if I were to start endeavouring to describe Godfrey
+we should be at it for hours.  You can't describe Godfrey, you can only
+absorb him.  He is a sort of wise youth rapidly approaching childhood."
+
+"What on earth do you mean?" cried Patricia, laughing.
+
+"You will discover for yourself later.  We are all dining at the
+Quadrant to-night at eight."
+
+"Dining at the Quadrant?" repeated Patricia in amazement.
+
+"Yes, and I have to get home to dress and you have to dress and I will
+pick you up in a taxi at a quarter to eight."
+
+"But--but--Peter--your brother said that he was coming----"
+
+"Peter has greater faith in his sister than in himself, he therefore
+took me into his confidence and I am his emissary."
+
+"Oh, you Bowens, you Bowens!" moaned Patricia in mock despair.
+
+"There is no avoiding us, I confess," said Lady Tanagra gaily.  "Now I
+must tell you about your charming aunt.  She called upon mother
+yesterday."
+
+"What!" gasped Patricia.
+
+"She called at Grosvenor Square and announced to poor, un-understanding
+mother that she thought the families ought to know one another.  But
+she got rather badly shocked by Godfrey and one of the soldier boys,
+whom we call 'Uncle,' and left with the firm conviction that our circle
+is a pernicious one."
+
+"It's--it's--perfectly scandalous!" cried Patricia.
+
+"No, it's not as bad as that," said Lady Tanagra calmly.
+
+"What?" began Patricia.  "Oh!  I mean Aunt Adelaide's conduct, it's
+humiliating, it's----"
+
+"Wait until you hear," said Lady Tanagra with a smile.  "When Peter ran
+in to see mother, she said that she had had a call from a Miss Brent
+and could he place her.  So poor old Peter blurts out that he's going
+to marry Miss Brent.  Poor mother nearly had a fit on the spot.  She
+was too tactful to express her disapproval; but she showed it in her
+amazement.  The result was that Peter was deeply hurt and left the room
+and the house.  I am the only one who saw the exquisite humour of the
+joke.  My poor darling mother had the impression that Peter has gone
+clean off his head and wanted to marry your most excellent Aunt
+Adelaide," and Lady Tanagra laughed gaily.
+
+For a moment Patricia gazed at her blankly, then as she visualised Aunt
+Adelaide and Bowen side by side at the altar she laughed hysterically.
+
+"I kept mother in suspense for quite a long time.  Then I told her, and
+I also rang up Peter and told him.  And now I must fly," cried Lady
+Tanagra.  "I will be here at a quarter to eight, and if you are not
+ready I shall be angry; but if you have locked yourself in your room I
+shall batter down the door.  We are going to have a very happy evening
+and you will enjoy yourself immensely.  I think it quite likely that
+Godfrey will fall in love with you as well as Peter, which will still
+further increase your embarrassments." Then with a sudden change of
+mood she said, "Please cheer up, Patricia, happiness is not a thing to
+be taken lightly.  You have been a little overwrought of late, and now,
+good-bye."
+
+"One moment, please," said Patricia.  "Don't you understand that
+nothing can possibly be built up on such a foundation as--as----?"
+
+"Your picking up Peter in the Grill-room of the Quadrant," said Lady
+Tanagra calmly.
+
+Patricia gasped.  "Oh!" she cried.
+
+"Let's call things by their right names," said Lady Tanagra.  "At the
+present moment you're putting up rather a big fight against your own
+inclination, and you are causing yourself a lot of unnecessary
+unhappiness.  Is it worth it?" she asked.
+
+"One's self-respect is always worth any sacrifice," said Patricia.
+
+"Except when you are in love, and then you take pride in trampling it
+under foot."
+
+With this oracular utterance Lady Tanagra departed with a bright nod, a
+smile and an insistence that Patricia should not come downstairs.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+A TACTICAL BLUNDER
+
+"I often think," remarked Lady Tanagra as she helped herself a second
+time to hors d'oeuvres, "that if Godfrey could only be condensed or
+desiccated he would save the world from ennui."
+
+Elton looked up from a sardine he was filleting with great interest and
+care; concentration was the foundation of Godfrey Elton's character.
+
+"Does that mean that he is a food or a stimulant?" enquired Patricia,
+Elton having returned to his sardine.
+
+Lady Tanagra regarded Elton with thoughtful brow.
+
+"I think," she said deliberately, "I should call him a habit."
+
+"Does that imply that he is a drug upon the market?" retorted Patricia.
+
+Bowen laughed.  Elton continued to fillet his sardine.
+
+"You see," continued Lady Tanagra, "Godfrey has two qualities that to a
+woman are maddening.  The first is the gift of silence, and the second
+is a perfect genius for making everyone else feel that they are in the
+wrong.  Some day he'll fall in love, and then something will snap
+and--well, he will give up dissecting sardines as if they were the one
+thing in life worthy of a man's attention."
+
+Elton looked up again straight into Lady Tanagra's eyes and smiled.
+
+"Look at him now!" continued Lady Tanagra, "that very smile makes me
+feel like a naughty child."
+
+The four were dining in Bowen's sitting-room at the Quadrant, Lady
+Tanagra having decided that this would be more pleasant than in the
+public dining-room.
+
+"Can you," continued Lady Tanagra, who was in a wilful mood, "can you
+imagine Godfrey in love?  I don't think any man ought to be allowed to
+fall in love until he has undergone an examination as to whether or no
+he can say the right thing the right way.  No, it takes an Irishman to
+make love."
+
+"But an Irishman says what he cannot possibly mean," said Patricia,
+with the air of one of vast experience in such matters.
+
+"And many Englishmen mean what they cannot possibly say," said Elton,
+looking at Lady Tanagra.
+
+"Oh," cried Lady Tanagra, clapping her hands.  "You have drawn him,
+Patricia.  Now he will talk to us instead of concentrating himself upon
+his food.  Ah!" she exclaimed suddenly, turning to Elton.  "I promised
+that you should fall in love with Patricia, Godfrey."
+
+"Now that Tanagra has come down to probabilities the atmosphere should
+lighten," Elton remarked.
+
+"Isn't that Godfrey all over?" demanded Lady Tanagra of Bowen.  "He
+will snub one woman and compliment another in a breath.  Patricia," she
+continued, "I warn you against Godfrey.  He is highly dangerous.  He
+should always be preceded by a man with a red flag."
+
+"But why?" asked Bowen.
+
+"Because of his reticence.  A man has no right t to be reticent; it
+piques a woman's curiosity, and with us curiosity is the first step to
+surrender."
+
+"Why hesitate at the first step?" asked Elton.
+
+"Think of it, Patricia," continued Lady Tanagra, ignoring Elton's
+remark.  "Although Godfrey has seen _The Morning Post_ he has not yet
+congratulated Peter."
+
+"I did not know then that I had cause to congratulate him," said Elton
+quietly.
+
+"What mental balance!" cried Lady Tanagra.  "I'm sure he reads the
+deaths immediately after the births, and the divorces just after the
+marriages so as to preserve his sense of proportion."
+
+Elton looked first at Lady Tanagra and then on to Patricia, and smiled.
+
+"Can you not see Godfrey choosing a wife?" demanded Lady Tanagra,
+laughing.  "Weighing the shape of her head with the size of her ankles,
+he's very fussy about ankles.  He would dissect her as he would a
+sardine, demanding perfection, mental, moral, and physical, and in
+return he could give _himself_."  Lady Tanagra emphasized the last word.
+
+"Most men take less time to choose a wife than they would a
+trousering," said Elton quietly.
+
+"I think Mr. Elton is right," said Patricia.
+
+"Then you don't believe in love at first sight," said Bowen to Patricia.
+
+"Miss Brent did not say that," interposed Elton.  "She merely implied
+that a man who falls in love at first sight should choose trouserings
+at first sight.  Is that not so?"  He looked across at Patricia.
+
+Patricia nodded.
+
+"An impetuous man will be impetuous in all things," said Bowen.
+
+"He who hesitates may lose a wife," said Lady Tanagra, "and----"
+
+"And by analogy, go without trousers," said Elton quietly.
+
+"That might explain a Greek; but scarcely a Scotsman," said Patricia.
+
+"No one has ever been able to explain a Scotsman," said Elton.  "We
+content ourselves with misunderstanding him."
+
+"We were talking about love," broke in Lady Tanagra, "and I will not
+have the conversation diverted."  Turning to Patricia she demanded,
+"Can you imagine Godfrey in love?"
+
+"I think so," said Patricia quietly, looking across at Elton.
+"Only----"
+
+"Only what?" cried Lady Tanagra with excited interest.  "Oh, please,
+Patricia, explain Godfrey to me!  No one has ever done so."
+
+"Don't you think he is a little like the Scotsman we were talking about
+just now?" said Patricia.  "Difficult to explain; but easy to
+misunderstand."
+
+"Oh, Peter, Peter!" wailed Lady Tanagra, looking across at Bowen.
+"She's caught it."
+
+"Caught what?" asked Bowen in surprise.
+
+"The vagueness of generalities that is Godfrey," replied Lady Tanagra.
+"Now, Patricia, you must explain that 'only' at which you broke off.
+You say you can imagine Godfrey in love, only----"
+
+"I think he would place it on the same plane as honour and
+sportsmanship, probably a little above both."
+
+Elton looked up from the bread he was crumbling, and gave Patricia a
+quick penetrating glance, beneath which her eyes fell.
+
+Lady Tanagra looked at Patricia in surprise, but said nothing.
+
+"Can you imagine Tan in love, Patricia?" enquired Bowen.  "We Bowens
+are notoriously backward in matters of the heart," he added.
+
+"I shall fall in love when the man comes along who--who----"  Lady
+Tanagra paused.
+
+"Will compel you," said Patricia, concluding the sentence.
+
+Again Elton looked quickly across at her.
+
+"What do you mean?" demanded Lady Tanagra.
+
+"I think," said Patricia deliberately, "that you are too primitive to
+fall in love.  You would have to be stormed, carried away by force, and
+wooed afterwards."
+
+"It doesn't sound very respectable, does it?" said Lady Tanagra
+thoughtfully, then turning to Bowen she demanded, "Peter, would you
+allow me to be carried away by force, stormed, and wooed afterwards?"
+
+"I think, Tanagra, you sometimes forget that your atmosphere is too
+exotic for most men," said Elton.
+
+"Godfrey," said Lady Tanagra reproachfully, "I have had quite a lot of
+proposals, and I won't be denied my successes."
+
+"We were talking about love, not offers of marriage," said Elton with a
+smile.
+
+"Cynic," cried Lady Tanagra.  "You imply that the men who have proposed
+to me wanted my money and not myself."
+
+"Suppose, Tanagra, there were a right man," said Patricia, "and he was
+poor and honourable.  What then?"
+
+"I suppose I should have to ask him to marry me," said Lady Tanagra
+dubiously.
+
+"But, Tan, we've just decided," said Bowen, "that you have to be
+carried away by force, and cannot love until force has been applied."
+
+"I think I've had enough of this conversation," said Lady Tanagra.
+"You're trying to prove that I'm either going to lose my reputation, or
+die an old maid, and I'm not so sure that you're wrong, about the old
+maid, I mean," she added.  "I shall depend upon you, Godfrey, then,"
+she said, turning to Elton, "and we will hobble about the Park together
+on Sunday mornings, comparing notes upon rheumatism and gout.  Ugh!"
+She looked deliberately round the table, from one to the other.  "Has
+it ever struck you what we shall look like when we grow very old?" she
+asked.
+
+"No one need ever grow old," said Patricia.
+
+"How can you prevent it?" asked Bowen.
+
+"There is morphia and the fountain of eternal youth," suggested Elton.
+
+"Please don't let's be clever any more," said Lady Tanagra.  "It's
+affecting my brain.  Now we will play bridge for a little while and
+then all go home and get to bed early."
+
+In spite of her protests Bowen insisted on seeing Patricia to Galvin
+House.  For some time they did not speak.  As the taxi turned into
+Oxford Street Bowen broke the silence.
+
+"Patricia, my mother wants to know you," he said simply.
+
+Patricia shivered.  The words came as a shock.  They recalled the
+incident of her meeting with Bowen.  She seemed to see a grey-haired
+lady with Bowen's eyes and quiet manner, too well-bred to show the
+disapproval she felt on hearing the story of her son's first meeting
+with his fiance.  She shuddered again.
+
+"Are you cold?" Bowen enquired solicitously, leaning forward to close
+the window nearest to him.
+
+"No, I was thinking what Lady Meyfield will think when she hears how
+you made the acquaintance of--of--me," she finished lamely.
+
+"There is no reason why she should know," said Bowen.
+
+"Do you think I would marry----?"  Patricia broke off suddenly in
+confusion.
+
+"But why----?" began Bowen.
+
+"If ever I meet Lady Meyfield I shall tell her exactly how I--I--met
+you," said Patricia with
+ decision.
+
+"Well, tell her then," said Bowen good-humouredly.  "She has a real
+sense of humour."
+
+The moment Bowen had uttered the words he saw his mistake.  Patricia
+drew herself up coldly.
+
+"It was rather funny, wasn't it?" she said evenly; "but mothers do not
+encourage their sons to develop such acquaintances.  Now shall we talk
+about something else?"
+
+"But my mother wants to meet you," protested Bowen.  "She----"
+
+"Tell her the story of our acquaintance," replied Patricia coldly.  "I
+think that will effectually overcome her wish to know me.  Ah! here we
+are," she concluded as the taxi drew up at Galvin House.  With a short
+"good night!" Patricia walked up the steps, leaving Bowen conscious
+that he had once more said the wrong thing.
+
+That night, as Patricia prepared for bed, she mentally contrasted the
+Bowens' social sphere with that of Galvin House and she shuddered for
+the third time that evening.
+
+"Patricia Brent," she apostrophised her reflection in the mirror.
+"You're a fool! and you have not even the saving grace of being an old
+fool.  High Society has turned your giddy young head," and with a laugh
+that sounded hard even to her own ears, she got into bed and switched
+off the light.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+GALVIN HOUSE MEETS A LORD
+
+The effect of _The Morning Post_ announcement upon Galvin House had
+been little short of sensational.  Although all were aware of the
+engagement, to see the announcement in print seemed to arouse them to a
+point of enthusiasm.  Everyone from the servants upwards possessed a
+copy of _The Morning Post_, with the single exception of Mrs. Barnes,
+who had mislaid hers and made everybody's life a misery by insisting on
+examining their copy to make quite sure that they had not taken hers by
+mistake.
+
+Had not Patricia been so preoccupied, she could not have failed to
+notice the atmosphere of suppressed excitement at Galvin House.  Many
+glances were directed at her, glances of superior knowledge, of which
+she was entirely unconscious.  Woman-like she never paused to ask
+herself what she really felt or what she really meant.  Her thoughts
+ran in a circle, coming back inevitably to the maddening question,
+"What does he really think of me?"  Why had Fate been so unkind as to
+undermine a possible friendship with that damning introduction?  After
+all, she would ask herself indifferently, what did it matter?  Bowen
+was nothing to her.  Then back again her thoughts would rush to the
+inevitable question, what did he really think?
+
+Since the night of her adventure, Patricia had formed the habit of
+dressing for dinner.  She made neither excuse nor explanation to
+herself as to why she did so.  Miss Wangle and Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe,
+however, had covertly remarked upon the fact; but Patricia had ignored
+them.  She had reached that state in her psychological development when
+she neither explained nor denied things.
+
+With delicacy and insight Providence has withheld from woman the
+uncomfortable quality of introspection.  Had Patricia subjected her
+actions to the rigid test of reason, she would have found them
+strangely at variance with her determination.  With a perversity
+characteristic of her sex, she forbade Bowen to see her, and then spent
+hours in speculating as to when and how he would disobey her.  A parcel
+in the hall at Galvin House sent the colour flooding to her cheeks,
+whilst Gustave, entering the lounge, bearing his flamboyant
+nickle-plated apology for the conventional silver salver, set her heart
+thumping with expectation.
+
+As the day on which Bowen was to dine at Galvin House drew near, the
+excitement became intense, developing into a panic when the day itself
+dawned.  All were wondering how this or that garment would turn out
+when actually worn, and those who were not in difficulties with their
+clothes were troubled about their manners.  At Galvin House manners
+were things that were worn, like a gardenia or a patent hook-and-eye.
+Patricia had once explained to an uncomprehending Aunt Adelaide that
+Galvin House had more manners than breeding.
+
+On the Friday evening when Patricia returned to Galvin House, Gustave
+was in the hall.
+
+"Oh, mees!" he involuntarily exclaimed.
+
+Patricia waited for more; but after a moment of hesitation, Gustave
+disappeared along the hall as if there were nothing strange in his
+conduct, leaving Patricia staring after him in surprise.
+
+At that moment Mrs. Craske-Morton bustled out of the lounge, full of an
+unwonted importance.
+
+"Oh, Miss Brent!" she exclaimed.  "I am so glad you've come.  I have a
+few friends coming to dinner this evening and we are dressing."
+Without waiting for a reply Mrs. Craske-Morton turned and disappeared
+along the passage leading to the servants' regions.
+
+At that moment Mr. Bolton appeared at the top of the stairs in his
+shirt sleeves; but at the sight of Patricia he turned and bolted
+precipitately out of sight.
+
+Patricia walked slowly upstairs and along the corridor to her room,
+unconscious that each door she passed was closed upon a tragedy.
+
+In one room Mrs. Barnes sat on her bed in an agony of indecision and a
+camisole, wondering how the seams of her only evening frock could be
+made black with the blue-black ink that had been given her at the
+stationer's shop in error.
+
+Mr. James Harris, a little bearded man with long legs and a short body,
+stood in front of his glass, frankly baffled by the problem of how to
+keep the top of his trousers from showing above the opening of his
+low-cut evening waistcoat, an abandoned garment that seemed determined
+to show all that it was supposed to hide.
+
+Miss Sikkum was engaged in a losing game with delicacy.  On her lap lay
+the Brixton "Paris model blouse," which she had adorned with narrow
+black velvet ribbon.  Should she or should she not enlarge the surface
+of exposure?  If she did Miss Wangle might think her fast; if she did
+not Lord Peter might think her suburban.
+
+Mr. Sefton was at work upon his back hair, striving to remove from his
+reflection in the glass a likeness to a sandy cockatoo.
+
+Mr. Cordal was vainly struggling with a voluminous starched shirt,
+which as he bent seemed determined to give him the appearance of a
+pouter pigeon.
+
+To each his tragedy and to all their anguish.  Even Miss Wangle had her
+problem.  Should she or should she not remove the lace from the modest
+V in her black silk evening gown.  The thought of the bishop, however,
+proved too much for her, and her collar-bones continued to remain a
+mystery to Galvin House.
+
+The dinner-gong found everyone anxious and unprepared.  All had a
+vision of Bowen sitting in judgment upon them and mentally comparing
+Galvin House with Park Lane; for in Bayswater Park Lane is the pinnacle
+of culture and social splendour.
+
+A few minutes after the last strain of the gong, sounded by Gustave in
+a manner worthy of the occasion, had subsided, Miss Sikkum crept out
+from her room feeling very "undressed."  The sight of Mr. Sefton nearly
+drove her back precipitately to the maiden fastness of her chamber.
+"Was she really too undressed?" she asked herself.
+
+Slowly the guests descended, each anxious to cede to others the pride
+of place, all absorbed with his or her particular tragedy.  By the aid
+of pins Mr. Cordal had overcome his likeness to a pigeon, but he had
+not allowed for movement, which tore the pins from their hold, allowing
+his shirt-front to balloon out joyfully before him, for the rest of the
+evening obscuring his boots.
+
+Miss Wangle looked at Miss Sikkum and mentally thanked Heaven and the
+bishop that she had restrained her abandoned impulse to remove the
+black lace from her own neck.
+
+Mr. Bolton's attention was concentrated upon the centre stud of his
+shirt.  The button-hole was too large, and the head of the stud
+insisted on disappearing in a most coquettish and embarrassing manner.
+Mr. Bolton was not sure that Bowen would approve of blue underwear, and
+consequently kept a finger and thumb upon his stud for the greater part
+of the evening.
+
+As each entered the lounge, it was with a hurried glance round to see
+if the guest of the evening had arrived, followed by a sigh of relief
+on discovering that he had not.  Mrs. Craske-Morton had taken the
+precaution of deferring the dinner until eight o'clock.  She wished
+Bowen's entry to be dramatic.
+
+Mrs. Craske-Morton had asked a few friends of her own to meet her
+distinguished guest; a Miss Plimsoll, who was composed in claret colour
+and royal blue trimming, and Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Ragbone.  Mrs. Ragbone
+was a stout, jolly woman with a pronounced cockney accent.  Mr. Ragbone
+was a man whose eyebrows seemed to rise higher with each year, and
+whose manner of patient suffering became more pathetically unreal with
+the passage of each season.  Mrs. Craske-Morton always explained him as
+a solicitor.  Morton, Gofrim and Bowett, of Lincoln's Inn, knew him as
+their chief clerk.
+
+The atmosphere of the lounge was one of nervous tension.  All were
+listening for the bell which would announce the arrival of Bowen.  When
+at last he came, everybody was taken by surprise, Mr. Bolton's stud
+eluded his grasp, Mr. Sefton felt his back hair, whilst Miss Sikkum
+blushed rosily at her own daring.
+
+A dead silence spread over the company, broken by Gustave, who,
+throwing open the door with a flourish, announced "Lieutenant-Colonel
+Lord Peter Bowen, D.S.O."  Bowen gave him a quick glance with widened
+eyes, then coming forward, shook hands with Mrs. Craske-Morton.
+
+Miss Sikkum was disappointed to find that he was in khaki.  She had a
+vague idea that the nobility adopted different evening clothes from the
+ordinary rank and file.  It would have pleased her to see Bowen with
+velvet stripes down his trousers, a velvet collar and velvet cuffs.  A
+coloured silk waistcoat would have convinced her.
+
+Mrs. Craske-Morton was determined to do her work thoroughly.  She had
+taken the precaution of telling Patricia that dinner would not be
+served until a few minutes after eight, that would give her time to
+introduce Bowen to all the guests.  She proceeded to conduct him round
+to everyone in turn.  In her flurry she quite forgot the careful
+schooling to which she had subjected herself for a week past, and she
+introduced Miss Wangle to Bowen.
+
+"Lord Peter, allow me to introduce Miss Wangle.  Miss Wangle, Lord
+Peter Bowen," and this was the form adopted with the rest of the
+company.
+
+Bowen's sixth bow had just been interrupted by Mr. Cordal grasping him
+warmly by the hand, when Patricia entered.  For a moment she looked
+about her regarding the strange toilettes, then she saw Bowen.  She
+felt herself crimsoning as he slipped away from Mr. Cordal's grasp and
+came across to her.  All the guests hung back as if this were the
+meeting between Wellington and Bluecher.
+
+"I've done six, there are about twenty more to do.  If you save me,
+Patricia, I'll forgive you anything after we're married."
+
+Patricia shook hands sedately.
+
+Mrs. Craske-Morton bustled up to re-claim Bowen.  "A little surprise,
+Miss Brent; I hope you will forgive me."
+
+Patricia smiled at her in anything but a forgiving spirit.
+
+"And now, Lord Peter, I want to introduce you to----"
+
+"Deenair is served, madame."  Gustave was certainly doing the thing in
+style.
+
+At a sign from Mrs. Craske-Morton, Miss Wangle secured Mr. Samuel
+Ragbone and they started for the dining-room.  The remainder of the
+guests paired off in accordance with Mrs. Craske-Morton's instructions,
+written and verbal, she left nothing to chance, and the procession was
+brought up by Mrs. Craske-Morton herself and Bowen.  Patricia fell to
+the lot of Mr. Sefton.
+
+As soon as the guests were seated a death-like stillness reigned.
+Bowen was looking round with interest as he unfolded his napkin into
+which had been deftly inserted a roll.  Miss Sikkum, Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe and Mr. Bolton each lost their rolls, which were
+retrieved from underneath the table by Gustave and Alice.
+
+Mr. Sefton, also unconscious of the secreted roll, opened his napkin
+with a debonair jerk to show that he was quite at his ease.  The bread
+rose in the air.  He made an unsuccessful clutch, touched but could not
+hold it, and watched with horror the errant roll hit Miss Wangle
+playfully on the side of the nose, just as she was beginning to tell
+Bowen about "the dear bishop."
+
+Patricia bit her lip, Bowen bent solicitously over the angry Miss
+Wangle, whilst Mr. Bolton threatened to report Mr. Sefton to the Food
+Controller.  Gustave created a diversion by arriving with the soup.
+His white cotton gloves, several sizes too large even for his hands,
+caused him great anxiety.  Every spare moment during the evening he
+spent in clutching them at the wrists, just as they were on the point
+of slipping off.  Nothing, however, could daunt his courage or mitigate
+his good-humour.  For the first time in his life he was waiting upon a
+real lord, and from the circumstance he was extracting every ounce of
+satisfaction it possessed.
+
+In serving Bowen his attitude was that of one self-convicted of
+unworthiness.  Accustomed to the complaints and bickerings of a
+Bayswater boarding-house, Bowen's matter-of-fact motions of acceptance
+or refusal impressed him profoundly.  So this was how lords behaved.
+Nothing so impressed him as the little incident of the champagne.
+
+At Galvin House it was the custom for the guests to have their own
+drinks.  Mr. Cordal, for instance, drank what the label on the bottle
+announced to be "Gumton's Superior Light Dinner Ale."  Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe favoured Guinness's Stout, Miss Sikkum took hot water,
+whilst Miss Wangle satisfied herself with a claret bottle.  There is
+refinement in claret, the dear bishop always drank it, with water: but
+as claret costs money Miss Wangle made a bottle last for months.
+
+The thought of the usual heterogeneous collection of bottles on the
+occasion of Lord Peter's visit had filled Mrs. Craske-Morton with
+horror, and she had decided to "spring" wine, as Mr. Bolton put it.  In
+other words, she supplied for the whole company four bottles of
+one-and-eightpenny claret, the bottles rendered beautifully old by
+applied dust and cobwebs.  To this she had added a bottle of grocer's
+champagne for Bowen.  Gustave had been elaborately instructed that this
+was for the principal guest and the principal guest only, and Mrs.
+Craske-Morton had managed to convey to him in some subtle way that if
+he poured so much as a drop of the precious fluid into any other
+person's glass, the consequences would be too terrifying even to
+contemplate.
+
+Whilst Galvin House was murmuring softly over its soup, Gustave
+approached Bowen with the champagne bottle swathed in a white napkin,
+and looking suspiciously like an infant in long clothes.  Holding the
+end of the bottle's robes with the left hand so that it should not
+tickle Bowen's ear, Gustave bent anxiously to his task.
+
+Bowen, however, threw a bomb-shell at the earnest servitor.  He
+motioned that he did not desire champagne.  Gustave hesitated and
+looked enquiringly at his mistress.  Here was an unlooked-for
+development.
+
+"You'll take champagne?" enquired Mrs. Craske-Morton ingratiatingly.
+
+Gustave breathed again, and whilst Bowen's attention was distracted in
+explaining to Mrs. Craske-Morton that he preferred water, he had a
+delicate taste in wine, Gustave filled the glass happily.  Of course,
+it was all right, he told himself, the lord merely wanted to be
+pressed.  If he had really meant "no," he would have put his hand over
+his glass, as Miss Sikkum always did when she refused some of Mr.
+Cordal's "Light Dinner Ale."
+
+Gustave retired victorious with the champagne bottle, which he placed
+upon the sideboard.  At every interval in his manifold duties, Gustave
+returned with the white-clothed bottle, and strove to squeeze a few
+more drops into Bowen's untouched glass.
+
+The terrifying constraint with which the meal had opened gradually wore
+off as the wine circulated.  Following the path of least resistance, it
+mounted to Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe's head; but with Miss Sikkum it seemed
+to stop short at her nose.  Mr. Cordal's shirt-front announced that he
+had temporarily given up Gumton in favour of the red, red wine of the
+smoking-concert baritone.  Mrs. Barnes seemed on the point of tears,
+whilst Mr. Sefton's attentions to Patricia were a direct challenge to
+Bowen.
+
+Conversation at Galvin House was usually general; but it now became
+particular.  Every remark was directed either to or at Bowen, and each
+guest strove to hear what he said.  Those who were fortunate enough to
+catch his replies told those who were not.  A smile or a laugh from
+anyone who might be in conversation with Bowen rippled down the table.
+Mr. Cordal was less intent upon his food, and his inaccuracy of aim
+became more than ever noticeable.
+
+"Oh, Lord Bowen!" simpered Miss Sikkum, "do tell us where you got the
+D.S.O."
+
+Bowen screwed his glass into his eye and looked across at Miss Sikkum,
+at the redness of her nose and the artificial rose in her hair.
+Everyone was waiting anxiously for Bowen's reply.  Mr. Cordal grunted
+approval.
+
+"At Buckingham Palace," said Bowen, "from the King.  They give you
+special leave, you know."
+
+Patricia looked across at him and smiled.  What was he thinking of
+Galvin House refinement?  What did he think of her for being there?
+Well, he had brought it on himself and he deserved his punishment.  At
+first Patricia had been amused: but as the meal dragged wearily on,
+amusement developed into torture.  Would it never end?  She glanced
+from Miss Wangle, all graciousness and smiles, to Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe,
+in her faded blue evening-frock, on to Miss Sikkum bare and abandoned.
+She heard Mr. Sefton's chatter, Mr. Bolton's laugh, Mr. Cordal's jaws
+and lips.  She shuddered.  Why did not she accept the opening of escape
+that now presented itself and marry Bowen?  He could rescue her from
+all this and what it meant.
+
+"And shall we all be asked to the wedding, Lord Bowen?"
+
+It was again Miss Sikkum's thin voice that broke through the curtain of
+Patricia's thoughts.
+
+"I hope all Miss Brent's friends will be there," replied Bowen
+diplomatically.
+
+"And now we shall all have to fetch and carry for Miss Brent," laughed
+Mr. Bolton.  "Am I your friend, Miss Brent?" he enquired.
+
+"She always laughs at your jokes when nobody else can," snapped Miss
+Pilkington.
+
+Everybody turned to the speaker, who during the whole meal had silently
+nursed her resentment at having been placed at the bottom of the table.
+Mr. Bolton looked crestfallen.  Bowen looked across at Patricia and saw
+her smile sympathetically at Mr. Bolton.
+
+"I think from what I have heard, Mr. Bolton," he said, "that you may
+regard yourself as one of the elect."
+
+Patricia flashed Bowen a grateful look.  Mr. Bolton beamed and, turning
+to Miss Pilkington, said with his usual introductory laugh:
+
+"Then I shall return good for evil, Miss Pilkington, and persuade Lady
+Peter to buy her stamps at your place."
+
+Miss Pilkington flushed at this reference to her calling, a
+particularly threadbare joke of Mr. Bolton's.
+
+"When is it to be, Lord Peter?" enquired Mrs. Craske-Morton.
+
+Miss Sikkum looked down modestly at her plate, not quite certain
+whether or no this were a delicate question.
+
+"That rests with Miss Brent," replied Bowen, smiling.  "If you, her
+friends, can persuade her to make it soon, I shall be very grateful."
+
+Miss Sikkum simpered and murmured under her breath, "How romantic."
+
+"Now, Miss Brent," said Mr. Bolton, "it's up to you to name the happy
+day."
+
+Patricia smiled, conscious that all eyes were upon her; but
+particularly conscious of Bowen's gaze.
+
+"I believe in long engagements," she said, stealing a glance at Bowen
+and thrilling at the look of disappointment on his face.  "Didn't Jacob
+serve seven years for Rachel?"
+
+"Yes, and got the wrong girl then," broke in Mr. Bolton.  "You'll have
+to be careful, Miss Brent, or Miss Sikkum will get ahead of you."
+
+"Really, Mr. Bolton!" said Mrs. Craske-Morton, looking anxiously at
+Bowen.
+
+Miss Sikkum's cheeks had assumed the same tint as her nose, and her
+eyes were riveted upon her plate.  Miss Pilkington muttered something
+under her breath about Mr. Bolton's remark being outrageous.
+
+"I think we'll take coffee in the lounge," said Mrs. Craske-Morton,
+rising.  Turning to Bowen, she added, "We follow the American custom,
+Lord Peter, the gentlemen always leave the dining-room with the ladies."
+
+There was a pushing back of chairs and a shuffling of feet and Galvin
+House rose from its repast.
+
+"Coffee will not be served for half an hour, and if you and Miss Brent
+would like to--to----"
+
+Mrs. Craske-Morton paused significantly.  "My boudoir is at your
+service."
+
+Bowen looked at her and then at Patricia.  He saw the flush on her
+cheeks and the humiliation in her eyes.
+
+"I think we should much prefer not to interrupt our pleasant
+conversation.  What do you say, Patricia?" he enquired, turning to
+Patricia, who smiled her acquiescence.
+
+They all trooped into the lounge, where everybody except Patricia,
+Bowen and Mrs. Craske-Morton stood about in awkward poses.  The arrival
+of Gustave with coffee relieved the tension.
+
+For the next hour each guest endeavoured to attract to himself or
+herself Bowen's attention, and each was disappointed when at length he
+rose to go and shook hands only with Mrs. Craske-Morton, including the
+others in a comprehensive bow.  Still more were they disappointed and
+surprised when Patricia did not go out into the hall to see him off.
+
+"Oh, Miss Brent!" simpered Miss Sikkum, "aren't you going to say good
+night to him?"
+
+"Good night!" interrogated Patricia, "but I did."
+
+"Yes; but I mean----" began Miss Sikkum.
+
+"Oh, you know," she said with a simper, but Patricia had passed over to
+a chair, where she seated herself and began to read a newspaper upside
+down.
+
+Miss Sikkum's romantic soul had received a shock.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+MR. TRIGGS TAKES TEA IN KENSINGTON GARDENS
+
+
+I
+
+"Well, me dear, 'ow goes it?"
+
+Mr. Triggs flooded the room with his genial person, mopping his brow
+with a large bandana handkerchief, and blowing a cheerful protest
+against the excessive heat.
+
+Patricia looked up from her work and greeted him with a tired smile, as
+he collapsed heavily upon a chair, which creaked ominously beneath his
+weight.
+
+"When you're sixty-two in the shade it ain't like being twenty-five in
+the sun," he said, laughing happily at his joke.
+
+"Now you must sit quiet and be good," admonished Patricia.  "I'm busy
+with beetles."
+
+"Busy with what?" demanded Mr. Triggs arresting the process of fanning
+himself with his handkerchief.
+
+"The potato-beetle," explained Patricia.  "There is no lack of variety
+in the life of an M.P.'s secretary: babies and beetles, pigs and
+potatoes, meat and margarine, they all have their allotted place."
+
+"Arthur works you too 'ard, me dear, I'm afraid," said Mr. Triggs.  "I
+must speak to 'im about it."
+
+"Oh, Mr. Triggs!  You mustn't do anything of the sort.  He's most kind
+and considerate, and if I am here I must do what he wants."
+
+"But beetles and babies and potatoes, me dear," said Mr. Triggs.
+"That's more than a joke."
+
+"Oh! you don't know what a joke a beetle can be," said Patricia,
+looking up and laughing in spite of herself at the expression of
+anxiety on Mr. Triggs's face.
+
+Mr. Triggs mumbled something to himself.
+
+"God bless my soul!" he exclaimed a moment after.  "'Ere am I,
+forgetting what I come about.  I've seen _The Morning Post_, me dear."
+
+Patricia pushed back her chair from the table and turned and faced Mr.
+Triggs.
+
+"Mr. Triggs," she said, "if you mention the words _Morning Post_ to me
+again I think I shall kill you."
+
+Mr. Triggs's hands dropped to his side as he gazed at her in blank
+astonishment.  "But, me dear----" he began.
+
+"The engagement has been broken off," announced Patricia.
+
+Mr. Triggs's jaw dropped, and he gazed at Patricia in amazement.
+"Broken off," he repeated.  "Engagement broken off.  Why, damn 'im,
+I'll punch 'is 'ead," and he made an effort to rise.
+
+Patricia laughed, a little hysterically.
+
+"You mustn't blame Lord Peter," she said.  "It is I who have broken it
+off."
+
+Mr. Triggs collapsed into the chair again.  "You broke it off," he
+exclaimed.  "You broke off the engagement with a nice young chap like
+'im?"
+
+Patricia nodded.
+
+"Well, I'm blowed!"  Mr. Triggs sat staring at Patricia as if she had
+suddenly become transformed into a dodo.  After nearly a minute's
+contemplation of Patricia, a smile slowly spread itself over his
+features, like the sun breaking through a heavy cloud-laden sky.
+
+"You been 'avin' a quarrel, that's what's the matter," he announced
+with a profound air of wisdom.
+
+Patricia shook her head with an air of finality; but Mr. Triggs
+continued to nod his head wisely.
+
+"That's what's the matter," he muttered.  "Why," he added, "you'll
+never get another young chap like 'im.  Took a great fancy to 'im, I
+did.  Now all you've got to do is just to kiss and make it up.  Then
+you'll feel 'appier than ever afterwards."
+
+Patricia realised the impossibility of conveying to Mr. Triggs that her
+decision was irrevocable.  Furthermore she was anxious that he should
+go, as she had promised to get out certain statistics for Mr. Bonsor.
+
+"Now you really must go, Mr. Triggs.  You won't think me horrid, will
+you, but I had a half-holiday the other day, and now I must work and
+make up for it.  That's only fair, isn't it?"
+
+"Very well, me dear, I can't stay.  I'll be off and get out of your
+way.  Now don't forget.  Make it up, kiss and be friends.  That's my
+motto."
+
+"It isn't a quarrel, Mr. Triggs; but it's no use trying to explain to
+anyone so sweet and nice as you.  Anyhow, I have broken off the
+engagement, and Lord Peter is in no way to blame."
+
+"Well, good-bye, me dear.  I'll see you again soon," said Mr. Triggs,
+still nodding his head with genial conviction as to the rightness of
+his diagnosis.  "And now I'll be trottin'.  Don't forget," and with a
+final look over his shoulder and another nod of wisdom he floated out
+of the room, seeming to leave it cold and bare behind him.
+
+"Well, I'm blowed!" he muttered as he walked away from Eaton Square.
+Arrived at the corner of Eaton Place, he stood still as if uncertain
+what direction to take.  Seeing a crawling taxi he suddenly seemed
+inspired with an idea.
+
+"Hi!  Hi!  Taxi!" he shouted, waving his umbrella.  Having secured the
+taxi and given the man instructions to drive to the Quadrant, he hauled
+himself in and sat down with a sigh of satisfaction.
+
+It was a few minutes to one as he asked for Lord Peter Bowen at the
+enquiry-office of the Quadrant.  Two minutes later Peel descended in
+the lift to inform him that his Lordship had not yet returned to lunch.
+Was Mr. Triggs expected?
+
+"Well, no," confessed Mr. Triggs, looking at Peel a little uncertainly.
+"'E wasn't expecting me; but 'e asked me the other night if I'd call in
+when I was passing, and as I was passing I called in, see?"
+
+For a moment Peel seemed to hesitate.
+
+"His Lordship has a luncheon engagement, sir," he said; "but he could
+no doubt see you for two or three minutes if he asked you to call.
+Perhaps you will step this way."
+
+Before Mr. Triggs had a chance of doing as was suggested, Peel had
+turned aside.
+
+"No, my lady, his Lordship is not in yet; but he will not be more than
+a minute or two.  This gentleman," he looked at the card, "Mr. Triggs,
+is----"
+
+"Oh, Mr. Triggs, how do you do?" cried Lady Tanagra, extending her hand.
+
+Mr. Triggs looked at the exquisite little vision before him in surprise
+and admiration.  He took the proffered hand as if it had been a piece
+of priceless porcelain.
+
+"I'm Lord Peter's sister, you know.  I've heard all about you from
+Patricia.  Do come up and let us have a chat before my brother comes."
+
+Mr. Triggs followed Lady Tanagra into the lift, too surprised and
+bewildered to make any response to her greeting.  As the lift slid
+upwards he mopped his brow vigorously with his handkerchief.
+
+When they were seated in Bowen's sitting-room he at last found voice.
+
+"I just been to see 'er," he said.
+
+"Who, Patricia?" asked Lady Tanagra.
+
+Mr. Triggs nodded, and there was a look in his eyes which implied that
+he was not at all satisfied with what he had seen.
+
+"Quarrelled, 'aven't they?"' he asked.
+
+"Well," began Lady Tanagra, not quite knowing how much Mr. Triggs
+actually knew of the circumstances of the case.
+
+"Said she'd broken it off.  I gave her a talking to, I did.  She'll
+never get another young chap like 'im."
+
+"Did you tell her so?" asked Lady Tanagra.
+
+"Tell her so, I should think I did!" said Mr. Triggs, "and more than
+once too."
+
+"Oh, you foolish, foolish man!" cried Lady Tanagra, wringing her hands
+in mock despair.  A moment afterwards she burst out laughing at the
+comical look of dismay on Mr. Triggs's face.
+
+"What 'ave I done?" he cried in genuine alarm.
+
+"Why, don't you see that you have implied that all the luck is on her
+side, and that will make her simply furious?"
+
+"But--but----" began Mr. Triggs helplessly, looking very much like a
+scolded child.
+
+"Now sit down," ordered Lady Tanagra with an irresistible smile, "and
+I'll tell you.  My brother wants to marry Patricia, and Patricia, for
+some reason best known to herself, says that it can't be done.  Now I'm
+sure that she is fond of Peter; but he has been so impetuous that he
+has rather taken her breath away.  I've never known him like it
+before," said Lady Tanagra plaintively.
+
+"But 'e's an awfully lucky fellow if 'e gets 'er," broke in Mr. Triggs,
+as if feeling that something were required of him.
+
+"Why, of course he is," said Lady Tanagra.  "Now will you help us, Mr.
+Triggs?"
+
+Lady Tanagra looked at him with an expression that would have extracted
+a promise of help from St. Anthony himself.
+
+"Of course I will, me dear.  I--I beg your pardon," stuttered Mr.
+Triggs.
+
+"Never mind, let it stand at that," said Lady Tanagra gaily.  "I'm sure
+we're going to be friends, Mr. Triggs."
+
+"Knew it the moment I set eyes on you," said Mr. Triggs with conviction.
+
+"Well, we've got to arrange this affair for these young people," said
+Lady Tanagra with a wise air.  "First of all we've got to prove to
+Patricia that she is really in love with Peter.  If she's not in love
+with him, then we've got to make her in love with him.  Do you
+understand?"
+
+Mr. Triggs nodded his head with an air that clearly said he was far
+from understanding.
+
+"Well, now," said Lady Tanagra.  "Patricia knows only three people that
+know Peter.  There is you, Godfrey Elton, and myself.  Now if she's in
+love with him she will want to hear about him, and----"
+
+"But ain't she going to see 'im?" demanded Mr. Triggs incredulously.
+
+"No, she says that she doesn't want Peter ever to see her, write to
+her, telephone to her, or, as far as I can see, exist on the same
+planet with her."
+
+"But--but----" began Mr. Triggs.
+
+"It's no good reasoning with a woman, Mr. Triggs, we women are all as
+unreasonable as the Income Tax.  Now if you'll do as you are told we
+will prove that Patricia is wrong."
+
+"Very well, me dear," began Mr. Triggs.
+
+"Now this is my plan," interrupted Lady Tanagra.  "If Patricia really
+cares for Peter she will want to hear about him from friends.  She
+will, very cleverly, as she thinks, lead up the conversation to him
+when she meets you, or when she meets Godfrey Elton, or when she meets
+me.  Now what we have to do is just as carefully to avoid talking about
+him.  Turn the conversation on to some other topic.  Now we've all got
+to plot and scheme and plan like--like----"
+
+"Germans," interrupted Mr. Triggs.
+
+"Splendid!" cried Lady Tanagra, clapping her hands.
+
+"But why has she changed her mind?" asked Mr. Triggs.
+
+"You must never ask a woman why she changes her frock, or why she
+changes her mind, because she never really knows," said Lady Tanagra.
+"Probably she does it because she hasn't got anything else particular
+to do at the moment.  Ah! here's Peter," she cried.
+
+Bowen came forward and shook hands cordially with Mr. Triggs.
+
+"This is splendid of you!" he said.  "You'll lunch with us, of course."
+
+"Oh no, no," said Mr. Triggs.  "I just ran in to--to----"
+
+"To get to know me," said Lady Tanagra with a smile.
+
+"Of course!  That's it," cried Mr. Triggs, beaming.  "I can't stop to
+lunch though, I'm afraid.  I must be going to----"
+
+"Have you got a luncheon engagement?" asked Lady Tanagra.
+
+"Er--well, yes."
+
+"Please don't tell fibs, Mr. Triggs.  You're not engaged to lunch with
+anybody, and you're going to lunch with us, so that's settled."
+
+"Why, bless my soul!" blew Mr. Triggs helplessly as he mopped his head
+with his handkerchief.  "Why, bless my soul!"
+
+"It's no good, Mr. Triggs.  When Tanagra wants anything she has it,"
+said Bowen with a laugh.  "It doesn't matter whether it's the largest
+pear or the nicest man!"
+
+Lady Tanagra laughed.  "Now we'll go down into the dining-room."
+
+For an hour and a half they talked of Patricia, and at the end of the
+meal both Lady Tanagra and Bowen knew that they had a firm ally in Mr.
+Triggs.
+
+"Don't forget, Mr. Triggs," cried Lady Tanagra as she bade him good-bye
+in the vestibule.  "You're a match-maker now, and you must be very
+careful."
+
+And Mr. Triggs lifted his hat and waved his umbrella as, wreathed in
+smiles, he trotted towards the revolving doors and out into the street.
+
+After he had gone Lady Tanagra extracted from Bowen a grudging promise
+of implicit obedience.  He must not see, telephone, write or telegraph
+to Patricia.  He was to eliminate himself altogether.
+
+"But for how long, Tan?" he enquired moodily.
+
+"It may be for years and it may be for ever," cried Lady Tanagra gaily
+as she buttoned her gloves.  "Anyhow, it's your only chance."
+
+"Damn!" muttered Bowen under his breath as he watched her disappear;
+"but I'll give it a trial."
+
+
+II
+
+The next afternoon as Patricia walked down the steps of Number 426
+Eaton Square and turned to the left, she was conscious that in spite of
+the summer sunshine the world was very grey about her.  She had not
+gone a hundred yards before Lady Tanagra's grey car slid up beside her.
+
+"Will you take pity on me, Patricia?  I'm at a loose end," cried Lady
+Tanagra.
+
+Patricia turned with a little cry of pleasure.
+
+"Jump in," cried Lady Tanagra.  "It's no good refusing a Bowen.  Our
+epidermises are too thick, or should it be epidermi?"
+
+Patricia shook her head and laughed as she seated herself beside Lady
+Tanagra.
+
+The car crooned its way up Sloane Street and across into Knightsbridge,
+Lady Tanagra intent upon her driving.
+
+"Is it indiscreet to ask where you are taking me?" enquired Patricia
+with elaborate humility.
+
+Lady Tanagra laughed as she jammed on the brake to avoid running into
+the stern of a motor-omnibus.
+
+"I feel like a pirate to-day.  I want to run away with someone, or do
+something desperate.  Have you ever felt like that?"
+
+"A politician's secretary must not encourage such unrespectable
+instincts," she replied.
+
+Lady Tanagra looked at her quickly, noting the flatness of her voice.
+
+"A wise hen should never brood upon being a hen," she remarked
+oracularly.
+
+Patricia laughed.  "It is all very well for Dives to tell Lazarus that
+it is noble to withstand the pangs of hunger," she replied.
+
+"Now let us go and get tea," said Lady Tanagra, as she turned the car
+into the road running between Kensington Gardens and Hyde Park.
+
+"Tea!" cried Patricia, "why it's past five."
+
+"Tea is a panacea for all ills and a liquid for all hours.  You have
+only to visit a Government Department for proof of that," said Lady
+Tanagra, as she descended from the car and walked towards the
+umbrella-sheltered tea-tables dotted about beneath the trees.  "And now
+I want to have a talk with you for a few minutes," she said as they
+seated themselves at an empty table.
+
+"I feel in the mood for listening," said Patricia, "provided it is not
+to be good advice," she added.
+
+"I've been having a serious talk with Peter," said Lady Tanagra.
+
+Patricia looked up at her.  Overhead white, fleecy clouds played a game
+of hide-and-seek with the sunshine.  The trees rustled languidly in the
+breeze, and in the distance a peacock screamed ominously.
+
+"I have told him," continued Lady Tanagra, "that I will not have you
+worried, and he has promised me not to see you, write to you, telephone
+to you, send you messenger-boys, chocolates, flowers or anything else
+in the world, in fact he's out of your way for ever and ever."
+
+Patricia looked across at Lady Tanagra in surprise, but said nothing.
+
+"I told him," continued Lady Tanagra evenly, "that I would not have my
+friendship with you spoiled through his impetuous blundering.  I think
+I told him he was suburban.  In fact I quite bullied the poor boy.  So
+now," she added with the air of one who has earned a lifelong debt of
+gratitude, "you will be able to go your way without fear of the
+ubiquitous Peter."
+
+Still Patricia said nothing as she sat looking down upon the empty
+plate before her.
+
+"Now we will forget all about Peter and talk and think of other things.
+Ah! here he is," she cried suddenly.
+
+Patricia looked round quickly; but at the sight of Godfrey Elton she
+was conscious of a feeling of disappointment that she would not,
+however, admit.  Her greeting of Elton was a trifle forced.
+
+Patricia was never frank with herself.  If it had been suggested that
+for a moment she hoped that Lady Tanagra's remark referred to Bowen,
+she would instantly have denied it.
+
+"No, Godfrey, don't look at me like that," cried Lady Tanagra.  "I am
+not so gauche as to arrange a parti-a-trois.  I've got someone very
+nice coming for Patricia."
+
+Again Patricia felt herself thrill expectantly.  Five minutes later Mr.
+Triggs was seen sailing along among the tables as if in search of
+someone.  Again Patricia felt that sense of disappointment she had
+experienced on the arrival of Godfrey Elton.
+
+Suddenly Mr. Triggs saw the party and streamed towards them, waving his
+red silk handkerchief in one hand and his umbrella in the other.
+
+"He has found something better than the fountain of eternal youth,"
+said Elton to Patricia.
+
+"Whatever it is he is unconscious of possessing it," replied Patricia
+as she turned to greet Mr. Triggs.
+
+"I'm late, I know," explained Mr. Triggs as he shook hands.  "I 'ad to
+run in and see 'Ettie and tell 'er I was coming.  It surprised 'er,"
+and Mr. Triggs chuckled as if at some joke he could not share with the
+others.
+
+"Now let us have tea," said Lady Tanagra.  "I'm simply dying for it."
+
+Mr. Triggs sank down heavily into a basket chair.  He looked about
+anxiously, as it creaked beneath his weight, as if in doubt whether or
+no it would bear him.
+
+"All we want now is----"  Mr. Triggs stopped suddenly and looked
+apprehensively at Lady Tanagra.
+
+"What is it you want, Mr. Triggs?" enquired Patricia quickly.
+
+"Er--er--I--I forget, I--I forget," floundered Mr. Triggs, still
+looking anxiously at Lady Tanagra.
+
+"When you're in the company of women, Mr. Triggs, you should never
+appear to want anything else.  It makes an unfavourable impression upon
+us."
+
+"God bless my soul, I don't!" cried Mr. Triggs earnestly.  "I've been
+looking forward to this ever since I got your wire yesterday afternoon."
+
+"Now he has given me away," cried Lady Tanagra.  "How like a man!"
+
+"Given you away, me dear!" cried Mr. Triggs anxiously.  "What 'ave I
+done?"
+
+"Why, you have told these two people here that made an assignation with
+you by telegram."
+
+"Made a what, me dear?" enquired Mr. Triggs, his forehead corrugated
+with anxiety.
+
+"Lady Tanagra is taking a mean advantage of the heat, Mr. Triggs," said
+Elton.
+
+"Anyway, I'll forgive you anything, Mr. Triggs, as you have come," said
+Lady Tanagra.
+
+Mr. Triggs's brow cleared and he smiled.
+
+"Come!  I should think I would come," he said.
+
+Lady Tanagra then explained her meeting with Mr. Triggs and how he had
+striven to avoid her company at luncheon on the previous day.  Mr.
+Triggs protested vigorously.
+
+During the tea the conversation was entirely in the hands of Lady
+Tanagra, Elton and Mr. Triggs.  Patricia sat silently listening to the
+others.  Several times Lady Tanagra and Mr. Triggs exchanged meaning
+glances.
+
+"Why ain't you talking, me dear?" Mr. Triggs once asked.
+
+"I like to hear you all," said Patricia, smiling across at him.
+"You're all too clever for me," she added.
+
+"Me clever!" cried Mr. Triggs, and then as if the humour of the thing
+had suddenly struck him he went off into gurgles of laughter.  "You
+ought to tell 'Ettie that," he spluttered.  "She thinks 'er old
+father's a fool.  Me clever!" he repeated, and again he went off into
+ripples of mirth.
+
+"What are your views on love, Mr. Triggs?" demanded Lady Tanagra
+suddenly.
+
+Mr. Triggs gazed at her in surprise.
+
+Then he looked from Patricia to Elton, as if not quite sure whether or
+no he were expected to be serious.
+
+"If I were you I should decline to reply.  Lady Tanagra treats serious
+subjects flippantly," said Elton.  "Her attitude towards life is to
+prepare a pancake as if it were a souffle."
+
+"That proves the Celt in me," cried Lady Tanagra.  "If I were English I
+should make a souffle as if it were a pancake."
+
+Mr. Triggs looked from one to the other in obvious bewilderment.
+
+"I am perfectly serious in my question," said Lady Tanagra, without the
+vestige of a smile.  "Mr. Triggs is elemental."
+
+"To be elemental is to be either indelicate or overbearing," murmured
+Elton, "and Mr. Triggs is neither."
+
+"Love, me dear?" said Mr. Triggs, not in the least understanding the
+trend of the conversation.  "I don't think I've got any ideas about it."
+
+"Surely you are not a cynic. Mr. Triggs," demanded Lady Tanagra.
+
+"A what?" enquired Mr. Triggs.
+
+"Surely you believe in love," said Lady Tanagra.
+
+"Me and Mrs. Triggs lived together 'appily for over thirty years," he
+replied gravely, "and when a man an' woman 'ave lived together for all
+that time they get to believe in love.  It's never been the same since
+she died."  His voice became a little husky, and Elton looked at Lady
+Tanagra, who lowered her eyes.
+
+"I'm sorry, Mr. Triggs.  Will you tell us about--about----?" she broke
+off.
+
+"Well, you see, me dear," said Mr. Triggs in an uncertain voice, "I was
+a foreman when I met 'er, and she was a servant; but--somehow or other
+it seemed that we were just made for each other.  Once I knew 'er, I
+didn't seem to be able to see things without her.  When I was at
+work--I was in the building trade, foreman-carpenter," he explained, "I
+used to be thinking of 'er all the time.  If I went anywhere without
+'er--she only had one night off a week and one day a month--I would
+always keep thinking of how she would like what I was seeing, or
+eating.  It was a funny feeling," he added reminiscently as if entirely
+unable to explain it.  "Somehow or other I always wanted to 'ave 'er
+with me, so that she might share what I was 'aving.  It was a funny
+feeling," he repeated, and he looked from one to another with moist
+eyes.  "Of course," he added, "I can't explain things like that.  I'm
+not clever."
+
+"I think, Mr. Triggs, that you've explained love in--in----"  Lady
+Tanagra broke off and looked at Elton, who was unusually grave.
+
+"Mr. Triggs has explained it," he replied, "in the only way in which it
+can be explained, and that is by being defined as unexplainable."
+
+Mr. Triggs looked at Elton for a moment, then nodded his head violently.
+
+"That's it, Mr. Elton, that's it.  It's a feeling, not a thing that you
+can put into words."
+
+Lady Tanagra looked at Patricia, who was apparently engrossed in the
+waving tops of the trees.
+
+"I shall always remember your definition of love, Mr. Triggs," said
+Lady Tanagra with a far away look in her eyes.  "I think you and Mrs.
+Triggs must have been very happy together."
+
+"'Appy, me dear, that wasn't the word for it," said Mr. Triggs.  "And
+when she was taken, I--I----" he broke off huskily and blew his nose
+vigorously.
+
+"Suppose you were very poor, Mr. Triggs," began Patricia.
+
+"I was when I married," interrupted Mr. Triggs.
+
+"Suppose you were very poor," continued Patricia, "and you loved
+someone very rich.  What would you do?"
+
+"God bless my soul!  I never thought of that.  You see Emily 'adn't
+anything.  She only got sixteen pounds a year."
+
+Lady Tanagra turned her head aside and blinked her eyes furiously.
+
+"But suppose, Mr. Triggs," persisted Patricia, "suppose you loved
+someone who was very rich and you were very poor.  What would you do?
+Would you tell them?"
+
+For a moment Patricia allowed her eyes to glance in the direction of
+Elton, and saw that his gaze was fixed upon Mr. Triggs.
+
+"But what 'as money got to do with it?" demanded Mr. Triggs, a puzzled
+expression on his face.
+
+"Exactly!" said Patricia.  "That's what I wanted to know."
+
+"Money sometimes has quite a lot to do with life," remarked Elton to no
+one in particular.
+
+"With life, Mr. Elton," said Mr. Triggs; "but not with love."
+
+"You are an idealist," said Lady Tanagra.
+
+"Am I?" said Mr. Triggs, with a smile.
+
+"And he is also a dear," said Patricia.
+
+Mr. Triggs looked at her and smiled.
+
+
+Lady Tanagra and Elton drove off, Patricia saying that she wanted a
+walk.  Mr. Triggs also declined Lady Tanagra's offer of a lift.
+
+"She wanted me to bring 'er with me," announced Mr. Triggs as they
+strolled along by the Serpentine.
+
+"Who did?"' enquired Patricia.
+
+"'Ettie.  Ran up to change 'er things and sent out for a taxi."
+
+"And what did you say?" enquired Patricia.
+
+"I didn't say anything; but when the taxi come I just slipped in and
+came along 'ere.  Fancy 'Ettie and Lady Tanagra!" said Mr. Triggs.
+"No," he added a moment later.  "It's no good trying to be what you
+ain't.  If 'Ettie was to remember she's a builder's daughter, and not
+think she's a great lady, she'd be much 'appier," said Mr. Triggs with
+unconscious wisdom.
+
+"Suppose I was to try and be like Mr. Elton," continued Mr. Triggs,
+"I'd look like a fool."
+
+"We all love to have you just as you are, Mr. Triggs, and we won't
+allow you to change," said Patricia.
+
+Mr. Triggs smiled happily.  He was as susceptible to flattery as a
+young girl.
+
+"Well, it ain't much good trying to be what you're not.  I've been a
+working-man, and I'm not ashamed of it, and you and Lady Tanagra and
+Mr. Elton ain't ashamed of being seen with me.  But 'Ettie, she'd no
+more be seen with 'er old father in Hyde Park than she'd be seen with
+'im in a Turkish bath."
+
+"We all have our weaknesses, don't you think?" said Patricia.
+
+And Mr. Triggs agreed.
+
+"You, for instance, have a weakness for High Society," continued
+Patricia.
+
+"Me, me dear!" exclaimed Mr. Triggs in surprise.
+
+"Yes," said Patricia, "it's no good denying it.  Don't you like knowing
+Lord Peter and Lady Tanagra, Mr. Elton and all the rest of them?"
+
+"It's not because they're in Society," began Mr. Triggs.
+
+"Oh, yes it is!  You imagine that you are now a very great personage.
+Soon you will be moving from Streatham into Park Lane, and then you
+will not know me."
+
+"Oh, me dear!" said Mr. Triggs in distress.
+
+"It's no good denying it," continued Patricia.  "Look at the way you
+made friends with Lord Peter."  Patricia was priding herself on the way
+in which she had led the conversation round to Bowen; but Mr. Triggs
+was not to be drawn.
+
+"God bless my soul!" he cried, stopping still and removing his hat,
+mopping his brow vigorously.  "I don't mind whether anyone has a title
+or not.  It's just them I like.  Now look at Lady Tanagra.  No one
+would think she was a lady."
+
+"Really, Mr. Triggs!  I shall tell her if you take her character away
+in this manner.  She's one of the most exquisitely bred people I have
+ever met."
+
+Mr. Triggs looked reproachfully at Patricia.
+
+"It's a bit 'ard on a young gal when she finds 'er father drops 'is
+aitches," he remarked, reverting to his daughter.  "I often wonder
+whether I was right in giving 'Ettie such an education.  She went to an
+'Igh School at Eastmouth," he added.  "It only made 'er dissatisfied.
+It was 'ard luck 'er 'aving me for a father," he concluded more to
+himself than to Patricia.
+
+"I am perfectly willing to adopt you as a father, Mr. Triggs, if you
+are in want of adoption," said Patricia.
+
+Mr. Triggs turned to her with a sunny smile.
+
+"Ah! you're different, me dear.  You see you're a lady born, same as
+Lady Tanagra; but 'Ettie ain't.  That's what makes 'er sensitive like.
+It's a funny world," Mr. Triggs continued; "if you go about with one
+boot, and you 'appen to be a duke, people make a fuss of you because
+you're a character; but if you 'appen to be a builder and go about in
+the same way they call you mad."
+
+That evening Patricia was particularly unresponsive to Mr. Bolton's
+attempts to engage her in conversation.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+PATRICIA'S INCONSTANCY
+
+Patricia's engagement and approaching marriage were the sole topics of
+conversation at Galvin House, at meal-times in particular.  Bowen was
+discussed and admired from every angle and aspect.  Questions rained
+upon Patricia.  When was she likely to get married?  Where was the
+wedding to take place?  Would she go abroad for her honeymoon?  Who was
+to provide the wedding-cake?  Where did she propose to get her
+trousseau?  Would the King and Queen be present at the wedding?
+
+At first Patricia had endeavoured to answer coherently; but finding
+this useless, she soon drifted into the habit of replying at random,
+with the result that Galvin House received much curious information.
+
+Miss Wangle's olive-branch was an announcement of how pleased the dear
+bishop would have been to marry Miss Brent and Lord Peter had he been
+alive.
+
+Mr. Bolton joked as feebly as ever.  Mr. Cordal masticated with his
+wonted vigour.  Mr. Sefton became absorbed in the prospect of the
+raising of the military age limit, and strove to hearten himself by
+constant references to the time when he would be in khaki.  Miss Sikkum
+continued to surround herself with an atmosphere of romance, and
+invariably returned in the evening breathless from her chaste
+endeavours to escape from some "awful man" who had pursued her.  The
+reek of cooking seemed to become more obvious, and the dreariness of
+Sundays more pronounced.  Some times Patricia thought of leaving Galvin
+House for a place where she would be less notorious; but something
+seemed to bind her to the old associations.
+
+As she returned each evening, her eyes instinctively wandered towards
+the table and the letter-rack.  If there were a parcel, her heart would
+bound suddenly, only to resume its normal pace when she discovered that
+it was for someone else.
+
+Of Lady Tanagra she saw little, news of Bowen she received none.  Her
+most dexterous endeavours to cross-examine Mr. Triggs ended in failure.
+He seemed to have lost all interest in Bowen.  Lady Tanagra never even
+mentioned his name.
+
+Whatever the shortcomings of Lady Tanagra and Mr. Triggs in this
+direction, however, they were more than compensated for by Mrs. Bonsor.
+Her effusive friendliness Patricia found overwhelming, and her
+insistent hospitality, which took the form of a flood of invitations to
+Patricia and Bowen to lunch, dine or to do anything they chose in her
+house or elsewhere, was bewildering.
+
+At last in self-defence Patricia had to tell Mrs. Bonsor that Bowen was
+too much occupied with his duties even to see her; but this seemed to
+increase rather than diminish Mrs. Bonsor's hospitable instincts, which
+included Lady Tanagra as well as her brother.  Would not Miss Brent
+bring Lady Tanagra to tea or to luncheon one day?  Perhaps they would
+take tea with Mrs. Bonsor at the Ritz one afternoon?  Could they lunch
+at the Carlton?  To all of these invitations Patricia replied with cold
+civility.
+
+In her heart Mrs. Bonsor was raging against the "airs" of her husband's
+secretary; but she saw that Lady Tanagra and Lord Peter might be
+extremely useful to her and to her husband in his career.  Consequently
+she did not by any overt sign show her pique.
+
+One day when Patricia was taking down letters for Mr. Bonsor, Mr.
+Triggs burst into the library in a state of obvious excitement.
+
+"Where's 'Ettie?" he demanded, after having saluted Patricia and Mr.
+Bonsor.
+
+Mr. Bonsor looked at him reproachfully.
+
+"'Ere, ring for 'Ettie, A. B., I've got something to show you all."
+
+Mr. Bonsor pressed the bell.  As he did so Mrs. Bonsor entered the
+room, having heard her father's voice.
+
+With great empressement Mr. Triggs produced from the tail pocket of his
+coat a folded copy of the "Illustrated Universe".  Flattening it out
+upon the table he moistened his thumb and finger and, with great
+deliberation, turned over several leaves, then indicating a page he
+demanded:
+
+"What do you think of that?"
+
+"That," was a full-page picture of Lady Tanagra walking in the Park
+with Mr. Triggs.  The portrait of Lady Tanagra was a little indistinct;
+but that of Mr. Triggs was as clear as daylight, and a remarkable
+likeness.  Underneath was printed "Lady Tanagra Bowen and a friend
+walking in the Park."
+
+Mrs. Bonsor devoured the picture and then looked up at her father, a
+new respect in her eyes.
+
+"What do you think of it, 'Ettie?" enquired Mr. Triggs again.
+
+"It's a very good likeness, father," said Mrs. Bonsor weakly.
+
+It was Patricia, however, who expressed what Mr. Triggs had anticipated.
+
+"You're becoming a great personage, Mr. Triggs," she cried.  "If you
+are not careful you will compromise Lady Tanagra."
+
+Mr. Triggs chuckled with glee as he mopped his forehead with his
+handkerchief.
+
+"I rang 'er up this morning," he said.
+
+"Rang who up, father?" enquired Mrs. Bonsor.
+
+"Lady Tan," said Mr. Triggs, watching his daughter to see the effect of
+the diminutive upon her.
+
+"Was she annoyed?" enquired Mrs. Bonsor.
+
+"Annoyed!" echoed Mr. Triggs.  "Annoyed!  She was that pleased she's
+asked me to lunch to-morrow.  Why, she introduced me to a duchess last
+week, an' I'm goin' to 'er place to tea."
+
+"I wish you would bring Lady Tanagra here one day, father," said Mrs.
+Bonsor.  "Why not ask her to lunch here to-morrow?"
+
+"Not me, 'Ettie," said Mr. Triggs wisely.  "If you want the big fish,
+you've got to go out and catch 'em yourself."
+
+There was a pause.  Patricia hid a smile in her handkerchief.  Mr.
+Bonsor was deep in a speech upon the question of rationing fish.
+
+"Well, A. B., what 'ave you got to say?"
+
+"Dear fish may mean revolution," murmured Mr. Bonsor.
+
+Mr. Triggs looked at his son-in-law in amazement.
+
+"What's that you say?" he demanded.
+
+"I--I beg your pardon.  I--I was thinking," apologised Mr. Bonsor.
+
+"Now, father," said Mrs. Bonsor, "will you come into the morning-room?
+I want to talk to you, and I'm sure Arthur wants to get on with his
+work."
+
+Mr. Triggs was reluctantly led away, leaving Patricia to continue the
+day's work.
+
+Patricia now saw little of Mr. Triggs, in fact since Lady Tanagra had
+announced that Bowen would no longer trouble her, she found life had
+become singularly grey.  Things that before had amused and interested
+her now seemed dull and tedious.  Mr. Bolton's jokes were more obvious
+than ever, and Mr. Cordal's manners more detestable.
+
+The constant interrogations levelled at her as to where Bowen was, and
+why he had not called to see her, she found difficult to answer.
+Several times she had gone alone to the theatre, or to a cinema, in
+order that it might be thought she was with Bowen.  At last the strain
+became so intolerable that she spoke to Mrs. Craske-Morton, hinting
+that unless Galvin House took a little less interest in her affairs,
+she would have to leave.
+
+The effect of her words was instantly manifest.  Wherever she moved she
+seemed to interrupt whispering groups.  When she entered the
+dining-room there would be a sudden cessation of conversation, and
+everyone would look up with an innocence that was too obvious to
+deceive even themselves.  If she went into the lounge on her return
+from Eaton Square, the same effect was noticeable.  When she was
+present the conversation was forced and artificial.  Sentences would be
+begun and left unfinished, as if the speaker had suddenly remembered
+that the subject was taboo.
+
+Patricia found herself wishing that they would speak out what was in
+their minds.  Anything would be preferable to the air of mystery that
+seemed to pervade the whole place.  She could not be unaware of the
+significant glances that were exchanged when it was thought she was not
+looking.  Several times she had been asked if she were not feeling
+well, and her looking-glass reflected a face that was pale and drawn,
+with dark lines under the eyes.
+
+One evening, when she had gone to her room directly after dinner, there
+was a gentle knock at her door.  She opened it to find Mrs. Hamilton,
+looking as if it would take only a word to send her creeping away again.
+
+"Come in, you dear little Grey Lady," cried Patricia, putting her arm
+affectionately round Mrs. Hamilton's small shoulders, and leading her
+over to a basket-chair by the window.
+
+For some time they talked of nothing in particular.  At last Mrs.
+Hamilton said:
+
+"I--I hope you won't think me impertinent, my dear; but--but----"
+
+"I should never think anything you said or did impertinent," said
+Patricia, smiling.
+
+"You know----" began Mrs. Hamilton, and then broke off.
+
+"Anyone would think you were thoroughly afraid of me," said Patricia
+with a smile.
+
+"I don't like interfering," said Mrs. Hamilton, "but I am very worried."
+
+She looked so pathetic in her anxiety that Patricia bent down and
+kissed her on the cheek.
+
+"You dear little thing," she cried, "tell me what is on your mind, and
+I will do the best I can to help you."
+
+"I am very--er--worried about you, my dear," began Mrs. Hamilton
+hesitatingly.  "You are looking so pale and tired and worn.  I--I fear
+you have something on your mind and--and----" she broke off, words
+failing her.
+
+"It's the summer," replied Patricia, smiling.  "I always find the hot
+weather trying, more trying even than Mr. Bolton's jokes," she smiled.
+
+"Are you--are you sure it's nothing else?" said Mrs. Hamilton.
+
+"Quite sure," said Patricia.  "What else should it be?"  She was
+conscious of her reddening cheeks.
+
+"You ought to go out more," said Mrs. Hamilton gently.  "After sitting
+indoors all day you want fresh air and exercise."
+
+And with that Mrs. Hamilton had to rest content.
+
+Patricia could not explain the absurd feeling she experienced that she
+might miss something if she left the house.  It was all so vague, so
+intangible.  All she was conscious of was some hidden force that seemed
+to bind her to the house, or, when by an effort of will she broke from
+its influence, seemed to draw her back again.  She could not analyse
+the feeling, she was only conscious of its existence.
+
+From Miss Brent she had received a characteristic reply to her letter.
+
+
+"DEAR PATRICIA," she wrote,
+
+"I have read with pain and surprise your letter.  What your poor dear
+father would have thought I cannot conceive.
+
+"What I did was done from the best motives, as I felt you were
+compromising yourself by a secret engagement.
+
+"I am sorry to find that you have become exceedingly self-willed of
+late, and I fear London has done you no good.
+
+"As your sole surviving relative, it is my duty to look after your
+welfare.  This I promised your dear father on his death-bed.
+
+"Gratitude I do not ask, nor do I expect it; but I am determined to do
+my duty by my brother's child.  I cannot but deplore the tone in which
+you last wrote to me, and also the rather foolish threat that your
+letter contained.
+
+"Your affectionate aunt,
+  "ADELAIDE BRENT.
+
+"P.S.--I shall make a point of coming up to London soon.  Even your
+rudeness will not prevent me from doing my duty by my brother's
+child.--A. B."
+
+
+As she tore up the letter, Patricia remembered her father once saying,
+"Your aunt's sense of duty is the most offensive sense I have ever
+encountered."
+
+One day as Patricia was endeavouring to sort out into some sort of
+coherence a sheaf of notes that Mr. Bonsor had made upon Botulism, Mr.
+Triggs entered the library.  After his cheery "How goes it, me dear?"
+he stood for some moments gazing down at her solicitously.
+
+"You ain't lookin' well, me dear," he said with conviction.
+
+"That's a sure way to a woman's heart," replied Patricia gaily.
+
+"'Ow's that, me dear?" he questioned.
+
+"Why, telling her that she's looking plain," retorted Patricia.
+
+Mr. Triggs protested.
+
+"All I want is a holiday," went on Patricia.  "There are only three
+weeks to wait and then----"
+
+There was, however, no joy of anticipation in her voice.
+
+"You're frettin'!"
+
+Patricia turned angrily upon Mr. Triggs.
+
+"Fretting!  What on earth do you mean, Mr. Triggs?" she demanded.
+
+Mr. Triggs sat down suddenly, overwhelmed by Patricia's indignation.
+
+"Don't be cross with me, me dear."  Mr. Triggs looked so like a child
+fearing rebuke that she was forced to smile.
+
+"You must not say absurd things then," she retorted.  "What have I got
+to fret about?"
+
+Mr. Triggs quailed beneath her challenging glance.  "I--I'm sorry, me
+dear," he said contritely.
+
+"Don't be sorry, Mr. Triggs," said Patricia severely; "be accurate."
+
+"I'm sorry, me dear," repeated Mr. Triggs.
+
+"But that doesn't answer my question," Patricia persisted.  "What have
+I to fret about?"
+
+Mr. Triggs mopped his brow vigorously.  He invariably expressed his
+emotions with his handkerchief.  He used it strategically, tactically,
+defensively, continuously.  It was to him what the lines of Torres
+Vedras were to Wellington.  He retired behind its sheltering folds, to
+emerge a moment later, his forces reorganised and re-arrayed.  When at
+a loss what to say or do, it was his handkerchief upon which he fell
+back; if he required time in which to think, he did it behind its ample
+and protecting folds.
+
+"You see, me dear," said Mr. Triggs at length, avoiding Patricia's
+relentless gaze, as he proceeded to stuff away the handkerchief in his
+tail pocket.  "You see, me dear----"  Again he paused.  "You see, me
+dear," he began for a third time, "I thought you was frettin' over your
+work or something, when you ought to be enjoyin' yourself," he lied.
+
+Patricia looked at him, her conscience smiting her.  She smiled
+involuntarily.
+
+"I never fret about anything except when you don't come to see me," she
+said gaily.
+
+Mr. Triggs beamed with good-humour, his fears now quite dispelled.
+
+"You're run down, me dear," he said with decision.  "You want an
+'oliday.  I must speak to A. B. about it."
+
+"If you do I shall be very angry," said Patricia; "Mr. Bonsor is always
+very kind and considerate."
+
+"It--it isn't----" began Mr. Triggs, then paused.
+
+"It isn't what?" Patricia smiled at his look of concern.
+
+"If--if it is," began Mr. Triggs.  Again he paused, then added with a
+gulp, "Couldn't I lend you some?"
+
+For a moment Patricia failed to follow the drift of his remark, then
+when she appreciated that he was offering to lend her money she
+flushed.  For a moment she did not reply, then seeing the anxiety
+stamped upon his kindly face, she said with great deliberation:
+
+"I think you must be quite the nicest man in all the world.  If ever I
+decide to borrow money I'll come to you first."
+
+Mr. Triggs blushed like a schoolboy.  He had fully anticipated being
+snubbed.  He had found from experience that Patricia had of late become
+very uncertain in her moods.
+
+They were interrupted by the entrance of Mr. Bonsor.
+
+"'Ere, A. B.!" cried Mr. Triggs.  "What do you mean by it?"
+
+"Mean by what?" enquired Mr. Bonsor, busy with an imaginary speech upon
+street noises, suggested by a barrel-piano in the distance.
+
+"You're working 'er too 'ard, A. B.," said Mr. Triggs with conviction.
+
+"Working who too hard?"  Mr. Bonsor looked helplessly at Patricia.  He
+was always at a disadvantage with his father-in-law, whose bluntness of
+speech seemed to demoralise him.
+
+"Mr. Triggs thinks that you are slowly killing me," laughed Patricia.
+
+Mr. Bonsor looked uncertainly at Patricia, and Mr. Triggs gazed at Mr.
+Bonsor.  He had no very high opinion of his daughter's husband.
+
+"Well, mind you don't overwork 'er," said Mr. Triggs as he rose to go.
+A few minutes later Patricia was deep in the absorbing subject of the
+life history of the potato-beetle.
+
+"Ugh!" she cried as the clock in the hall chimed five.  "I hate
+beetles, and," she paused a moment to tuck away a stray strand of hair,
+"I never want to see a potato as long as I live."
+
+That evening when she reached Galvin House she went to her room, and
+there subjected herself to a searching examination in the
+looking-glass, she was forced to confess to the paleness of her face
+and dark marks beneath her eyes.  She explained them by summer in
+London, coupled with the dreariness of Arthur Bonsor, M.P., and his
+mania for statistics.
+
+"You're human yeast, Patricia!" she murmured to her reflection; "at
+least you're paid two-and-a-half guineas a week to try to leaven the
+unleavenable, and you mustn't complain if sometimes you get a little
+tired.  Fretting!"  There was indignation in her voice.  "What have you
+got to fret about?"
+
+With the passage of each day, however, she grew more listless and
+weary.  She came to dread meal-times, with their irritating chatter and
+uninspiring array of faces that she had come almost to dislike.  She
+was conscious of whisperings and significant looks among her
+fellow-boarders.  She resented even Gustave's cow-like gaze of
+sympathetic anxiety as she declined the food he offered her.
+
+Lady Tanagra and Mr. Triggs never asked her out.  Everybody seemed
+suddenly to have deserted her.  Sometimes she would catch a glimpse of
+them in the Park on Sunday morning Once she saw Bowen; but he did not
+see her.  "The daily round and common task" took on a new and sinister
+meaning for her.  Sometimes her thoughts would travel on a few years
+into the future.  What did it hold for her?  Instinctively she
+shuddered at the loneliness of it all.
+
+One afternoon on her return to Galvin House, Gustave opened the door.
+He had evidently been on the watch.  His kindly face was beaming with
+goodwill.
+
+"Oh, mees!" he cried.  "Mees Brent is here."
+
+"Aunt Adelaide!" cried Patricia, her heart sinking.  Then seeing the
+comical lock of indecision upon Gustave's face caused by her despairing
+exclamation she laughed.
+
+When she entered the lounge, it was to find Miss Brent sitting upright
+upon the stiffest chair in the middle of the room.  Miss Wangle and
+Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe were seated together in the extreme corner, Mrs.
+Barnes and two or three others were grouped by the window.  The
+atmosphere was tense.  Something had apparently happened.  Patricia
+learned that from the grim set of Miss Brent's mouth.
+
+"I want to talk to you, Patricia," Miss Brent announced after the
+customary greeting.
+
+"Yes, Aunt Adelaide," said Patricia, sinking into a chair with a sigh
+of resignation.
+
+"Somewhere private," said Miss Brent.
+
+"There is no privacy at Galvin House," murmured Patricia, "except in
+the bathroom."
+
+"Patricia, don't be indelicate," snapped Miss Brent.
+
+"I'm not indelicate, Aunt Adelaide, I'm merely being accurate," said
+Patricia wearily.
+
+"Cannot we go to your room?" enquired Miss Brent.
+
+"Impossible!" announced Patricia.  "It's like an oven by now.  The sun
+is on it all the afternoon.  Besides," continued Patricia, "my affairs
+are public property here.  We are quite a commune.  We have everything
+in common--except our toothbrushes," she added as an afterthought.
+
+"Well!  Let us get over there."
+
+Miss Brent rose and made for the corner farthest from Miss Wangle and
+Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe.  Patricia followed her wearily.
+
+"I've just snubbed those two women," announced Miss Brent, as she
+seated herself in a basket-chair that squeaked protestingly.
+
+"There were indications of electricity in the air," remarked Patricia
+calmly.
+
+"I want to have a serious talk with you, Patricia," said Miss Brent in
+her best it's-my-duty-cost-it-what-it-may manner.
+
+"How can anyone be serious in this heat?" protested Patricia.
+
+"I owe it to your poor dear father to----"
+
+"This debtor and creditor business is killing romance," murmured
+Patricia.
+
+"I have your welfare to consider," proceeded Miss Brent.  "I----"
+
+"Don't you think you've done enough mischief already, Aunt Adelaide?"
+enquired Patricia coolly.
+
+"Mischief!  I?" exclaimed Miss Brent in astonishment.
+
+Patricia nodded.
+
+"As your sole surviving relative it is my duty----"
+
+"Don't you think," interrupted Patricia, "that just for once you could
+neglect your duty?  Sin is wonderfully exhilarating."
+
+"Patricia!" almost shrieked Miss Brent, horror in her eyes.  "Are you
+mad?"
+
+"No," replied Patricia, "only a little weary."
+
+"You must have a tonic," announced Miss Brent.
+
+Patricia shuddered.  She still remembered her childish sufferings
+resulting from Miss Brent's interpretation and application of The
+Doctor at Home.  She was convinced that she had swallowed every remedy
+the book contained, and been rubbed with every liniment its pages
+revealed.
+
+"No, Aunt Adelaide," she said evenly.  "All I require is that you
+should cease interfering in my affairs."
+
+"How dare you!  How----"  Miss Brent paused wordless.
+
+"I am prepared to accept you as an aunt," continued Patricia, outwardly
+calm; but almost stifled by the pounding of her heart.  "It is God's
+will; but if you persist in assuming the mantle of Mrs. Grundy,
+combined with the Infallibility of the Pope, then I must protest."
+
+"Protest!" repeated Miss Brent, repeating the word as if not fully
+comprehending its meaning.
+
+"If I am able to earn my own living, then I am able to conduct my own
+love affairs."
+
+"But----" began Miss Brent.
+
+"I am sorry to appear rude, Aunt Adelaide, but it is much better to be
+frank.  I am sure you mean well; but the fact of your being my sole
+surviving relative places me at a disadvantage.  If there were two of
+you or three, you could quarrel about me, and thus preserve the
+balance.  Now let us talk about something else."
+
+For once in her life Miss Brent was nonplussed.  She regarded her niece
+as if she had been a two-tailed giraffe, or a double-headed mastodon.
+Had she been American she would have known it to be brain-storm; as it
+was she decided that Patricia was sickening for some serious illness
+that had produced a temperature.
+
+In all her experience of "the Family" never once had Miss Brent been
+openly defied in this way, and she had no reserves upon which to fall
+back.  She held personal opinion and inclination must always take
+secondary place to "the Family."  The individual must be sacrificed to
+the group, provided the individual were not herself.  Births, deaths,
+marriages, christenings, funerals, weddings, were solemn functions that
+must be regarded as involving not the principals themselves so much as
+their relatives.  Her doctrine was, although she would not have
+expressed it so philosophically, that the individual is mortal; but the
+family is immortal.
+
+That anyone lived for himself or herself never seemed to occur to Miss
+Brent.  If their actions were acceptable to the family and at the same
+time pleased the principals, then so much the better for the
+principals; if, on the other hand, the family disapproved, then the
+duty of the principals was clear.
+
+This open flouting of her prides and her prejudices was to Miss Brent a
+great blow.  It seemed to stun her.  She was at a loss how to proceed;
+all she realised was that she must save "the Family" at any cost.
+
+"Now tell me what happened when you came in," said Patricia sweetly.
+
+"I must be going," said Miss Brent solemnly.
+
+"Must you?" enquired Patricia politely; but rising lest her aunt should
+change her mind.
+
+"Now remember," said Patricia as they walked along the hall, "you've
+lost me one matrimonial fish.  If I get another nibble you must keep
+out of----"
+
+But Miss Brent had fled.
+
+"Well, that's that!" sighed Patricia as she walked slowly upstairs.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+LADY PEGGY MAKES A FRIEND
+
+One Sunday morning as Patricia was sitting in the Park watching the
+promenaders and feeling very lonely, she saw coming across the grass
+towards her Godfrey Elton accompanied by a pretty dark girl in an amber
+costume and a black hat.  She bowed her acknowledgment of Elton's
+salute, and watched the pair as they passed on in the direction of
+Marble Arch.
+
+Suddenly the girl stopped and turned.  For a moment Elton stood
+irresolute, then he also turned and they both walked in Patricia's
+direction.
+
+"Lady Peggy insisted that we should break in upon your solitude," said
+Elton, having introduced the two girls.
+
+"You will forgive me, won't you?" said Lady Peggy, "but I so wanted to
+know you.  You see Peter has the reputation of being invulnerable.
+We're all quite breathless from our fruitless endeavours to entangle
+him, and I wanted to see what you were like."
+
+"I'm afraid you'll find I'm quite common-place," said Patricia,
+smiling.  It was impossible to be annoyed with Lady Peggy.  Her
+frankness was disarming, and her curiosity that of a child.
+
+"I always say," bubbled Lady Peggy, "that there are only two men in
+London worth marrying, and they neither of them will have me, although
+I've worked most terribly hard."
+
+"Who are they?" enquired Patricia.
+
+"Oh!  Goddy's one," she said, indicating Elton with a nod, "and Peter's
+the other.  They are both prepared to be brothers to me; but they're
+not sufficiently generous to save me from dying an old maid."
+
+"I must apologise for inflicting Peggy upon you, Miss Brent," said
+Elton; "but when you get to know her you may even like her."
+
+"I'm not going to wait until I know her," said Patricia.
+
+"Bravo!" cried Lady Peggy, clapping her hands.  "That's a snub for you,
+Goddy," she said, then turning again to Patricia, "I know we're going
+to be friends, and you can afford to be generous to a defeated rival."
+
+"I must warn you against Lady Peggy," said Elton quietly.  "She's a
+most dangerous young woman."
+
+"And now, Patricia," said Lady Peggy, "I'm going to call you Patricia,
+and you must call me Peggy.  I want you to do me a very great favour."
+
+Patricia looked at the girl, rather bewildered and breathless by the
+precipitancy with which she made friends.  "I'm sure I will if I
+possibly can," she replied.
+
+"I want you to come and lunch with us," said Lady Peggy.
+
+"It's very kind of you, I shall be delighted some day," replied
+Patricia conventionally.
+
+"No, now!" said Lady Peggy.  "This very day that ever is.  I want you
+to meet Daddy.  He's such a dear.  Goddy will come, so you won't be
+lonely," she added.
+
+"I'm afraid I've got----" began Patricia.
+
+"Please don't be afraid you've got anything," pleaded Lady Peggy.  "If
+you've got an engagement throw it over.  Everybody throws over
+engagements for me."
+
+"But----" began Patricia.
+
+"Oh, please don't be tiresome," said Lady Peggy, screwing up her
+eyebrows.  "I shall have all I can do to persuade Goddy to come, and
+it's so exhausting."
+
+"I will come with pleasure," said Elton, "if only to protect Miss Brent
+from your overwhelming friendliness."
+
+"Oh, you odious creature!" cried Lady Peggy, then turning to Patricia
+she added with mock tragedy in her voice, "Oh! the love I've languished
+on that man, the gladness of the eyes I have turned upon him, the
+pressures of the hand I've been willing to bestow on him, and this is
+how he treats me."  Then with a sudden change she added, "But you will
+come, won't you?  I do so want you to meet Daddy."
+
+"If the truth must be told," said Elton, "Peggy merely wants to be able
+to exploit you, as everybody is wanting to know about you and what you
+are like.  Now she will be a celebrity, and able to describe you in
+detail to all her many men friends and to her women enemies."
+
+Lady Peggy deliberately turned her back upon Elton.
+
+"Now we are going to have another little walk and then we'll go and get
+our nosebags on," she announced.  "No, you're not going to walk between
+us"--this to Elton--"I want to be next to Patricia," she announced.
+
+Patricia felt bewildered by the suddenness with which Lady Peggy had
+descended upon her.  She scarcely listened to the flow of small talk
+she kept up.  She was conscious that Elton's hand was constantly at the
+salute, and that Lady Peggy seemed to be indulging in a series of
+continuous bows.
+
+"Oh! do let's get away somewhere," cried Lady Peggy at length.  "My
+neck aches, and I feel my mouth will set in a silly grin.  Why on earth
+do we know so many people, Goddy?  Do you know," she added
+mischievously, "I'd love to have a big megaphone and stand on a chair
+and cry out who you are.  Then everybody would flock round, because
+they all want to know who it is that has captured Peter the Hermit, as
+we call him."  She looked at Patricia appraisingly.  "I think I can
+understand now," she said.
+
+"Understand what?" said Patricia.
+
+"What it is in you that attracts Peter."
+
+Patricia gasped.  "Really," she began.
+
+"Yes, we girls have all been trying to make love to Peter and fuss over
+him, whereas you would rather snub him, and that's very good for Peter.
+It's just the sort of thing that would attract him."  Then with another
+sudden change she turned to Elton and said, "Goddy, in future I'm going
+to snub you, then perhaps you'll love me."
+
+Patricia laughed outright.  She felt strongly drawn to this
+inconsequent child-girl.  She found herself wondering what would be the
+impression she would create upon the Galvin House coterie, who would
+find all their social and moral virtues inverted by such directness of
+speech.  She could see Miss Wangle's internal struggle, disapproval of
+Lady Peggy's personality mingling with respect for her rank.
+
+"Oh, there's Tan!" Lady Peggy broke in upon Patricia's thoughts "Goddy,
+call to her, shout, wave your hat.  Haven't you got a whistle?"
+
+But Lady Tanagra had seen the party, and was coming towards them
+accompanied by Mr. Triggs.
+
+Lady Peggy danced towards Lady Tanagra.  "Oh, Tan, I've found her!" she
+cried, nodding to Mr. Triggs, whom she appeared to know.
+
+"Found whom?" enquired Lady Tanagra.
+
+"Patricia.  The captor of St. Anthony, and we're going to be friends,
+and she's coming to lunch with me to meet Daddy, and Goddy's coming
+too, so don't you dare to carry him off.  Oh, Mr. Triggs! isn't it a
+lovely day," she cried, turning to Mr. Triggs, who, hat in hand, was
+mopping his brow.
+
+"Beautiful, me dear, beautiful," he exclaimed, beaming upon her and
+turning to shake hands with Patricia.  "Well, me dear, how goes it?" he
+enquired.  Then looking at her keenly he added, "Why, you're looking
+much better."
+
+Patricia smiled, conscious that the improvement in her looks was not a
+little due to Lady Peggy and her bright chatter.
+
+"You've become such a gad-about, Mr. Triggs, that you forget poor me,"
+she said.
+
+"Oh no, he doesn't!" broke in Lady Peggy, "he's always talking about
+you.  Whenever I try to make love to him he always drags you in.  I've
+really come to hate you, Patricia, because you seem to come between me
+and all my love affairs.  Oh!  I wish we could find Peter," cried Lady
+Peggy suddenly, "that would complete the party."
+
+Patricia hoped fervently that they would not come across Bowen.  She
+saw that it would make the situation extremely awkward.
+
+"And now we must dash off for lunch," cried Lady Peggy, "or we shall be
+late and Daddy will be cross."  She shook hands with Mr. Triggs, blew a
+kiss at Lady Tanagra and, before Patricia knew it, she was walking with
+Lady Peggy and Elton in the direction of Curzon Street.
+
+Patricia was in some awe of meeting the Duke of Gayton.  Hitherto she
+had encountered only the smaller political fry, friends and
+acquaintances of Mr. Bonsor, who had always treated her as a secretary.
+The Duke had been in the first Coalition Ministry, but had been forced
+to retire on account of a serious illness.
+
+"Look whom I've caught!" cried Lady Peggy as she bubbled into the
+dining-room, where some twelve or fourteen guests were in process of
+seating themselves at the table.  "Look whom I've caught!  Daddy," she
+addressed herself to a small clean-shaven man, with beetling eyebrows
+and a broad, intellectual head.  "It's the captor of Peter the Hermit."
+
+The Duke smiled and shook hands with Patricia.
+
+"You must come and sit by me," he said in particularly sweet and
+well-modulated voice, which seemed to give the lie to the somewhat
+stern and searching appearance of his eyes.  "Peter is a great friend
+of mine."
+
+Patricia was conscious of flushed cheeks as she took her seat next to
+the Duke.  Later she discovered that these Sunday luncheons were always
+strictly informal, no order of precedence being observed.  Young and
+old were invited, grave and gay.  The talk was sometimes frivolous,
+sometimes serious.  Sunday was, in the Duke's eyes, a day of rest, and
+conversation must follow the path of least resistance.
+
+Whilst the other guests were seating themselves, Patricia looked round
+the table with interest.  She recognised a well-known Cabinet Minister
+and a bishop.  Next to her on the other side was a man with hungry,
+searching eyes, whose fair hair was cropped so closely to his head as
+to be almost invisible.  Later she learned that he was a Serbian
+patriot, who had prepared a wonderful map of New Serbia, which he
+always carried with him.  Elton had described it as "the map that
+passeth all understanding."
+
+It embraced Bulgaria, Roumania, Transylvania, Montenegro, Greece,
+Albania, Bessarabia, and portions of other countries.
+
+"It's a sort of game," Lady Peggy explained later.  "If you can escape
+without his having produced his map, then you've won," she added.
+
+At first the Duke devoted himself to Patricia, obviously with the
+object of placing her at her ease.  She was fascinated by his voice.
+He had the reputation of being a brilliant talker; but Patricia decided
+that even if he had possessed the most commonplace ideas, he would have
+invested them with a peculiar interest on account of the whimsical
+tones in which he expressed them.  He was a man of remarkable dignity
+of bearing, and Patricia decided that she would be able to feel very
+much afraid of him.
+
+In answer to a question Patricia explained that she had only met Lady
+Peggy that morning.
+
+"And what do you think of Peggy's whirlwind methods?" asked the Duke
+with a smile.
+
+"I think they are quite irresistible," replied Patricia.
+
+"She makes friends quicker than anyone I ever met and keeps them
+longer," said the Duke.
+
+Presently the conversation turned on the question of the
+re-afforestation of Great Britain, springing out of a remark made by
+the Cabinet Minister to the Duke.  Soon the two, aided by a number of
+other guests, were deep in the intricacies of politics.  During a lull
+in the conversation the Duke turned to Patricia.
+
+"I am afraid this is all very dull for you, Miss Brent," he remarked
+pleasantly.
+
+"On the contrary," said Patricia, "I am greatly interested."
+
+"Interested in politics?" questioned the Duke with a tinge of surprise
+in his voice.
+
+Gradually Patricia found herself drawn into the conversation.  For the
+first time in her life she found her study of Blue Books and her
+knowledge of statistics of advantage and use.  The Cabinet Minister
+leaned forward with interest.  The other guests had ceased their local
+conversation to listen to what it was that was so clearly interesting
+their host and the Cabinet Minister.  In Patricia's remarks there was
+the freshness of unconvention.  The old political war-horses saw how
+things appeared to an intelligent contemporary who was not trammelled
+by tradition and parliamentary procedure.
+
+Suddenly Patricia became aware that she had monopolised the
+conversation and that everyone was listening to her.  She flushed and
+stopped.
+
+"Please go on," said the Cabinet Minister; "don't stop, it's most
+interesting."
+
+But Patricia had become self-conscious.  However, the Duke with great
+tact picked up the thread, and soon the conversation became general.
+
+As they rose from the table the Duke whispered to Patricia, "Don't
+hurry away, please, I want to have a chat with you after the others
+have gone."
+
+As they went to the drawing-room, Lady Peggy came up to Patricia and
+linking her arm in hers, said:
+
+"I'm dreadfully afraid of you now, Patricia.  Why everybody was
+positively drinking in your words.  Wherever did you learn so much?"
+
+"You cannot be secretary to a rising politician," said Patricia with a
+smile, "without learning a lot of statistics.  I have to read up all
+sorts of things about pigs and babies and beet-root and street-noises
+and all sorts of objectionable things."
+
+"What do you think of her, Goddy?" cried Lady Peggy to Elton as he
+joined them.
+
+"I'm afraid she has made me feel very ignorant," replied Elton.  "Just
+as you, Peggy, always make me feel very wise."
+
+In the drawing-room the Serbian attached himself to Patricia and
+produced his "map of obliteration," as the Duke had once called it,
+explaining to her at great length how nearly all the towns and cities
+in Europe were for the most part populated by Serbs.
+
+It was obvious to her, from the respect with which she was treated,
+that her remarks at luncheon had made a great impression.
+
+When most of the other guests had departed, the Duke walked over to
+her, and dismissing Peggy, entered into a long conversation on
+political and parliamentary matters.  He was finally interrupted by
+Lady Peggy.
+
+"Look here, Daddy, if you steal my friends I shall----" she paused,
+then turning to Elton she said, "What shall I do, Goddy?"
+
+"Well, you might marry and leave him," suggested Elton helpfully.
+
+"That's it.  I will marry and leave you all alone, Daddy."
+
+"Cannot we agree to share Miss Brent?" suggested the Duke, smiling at
+Patricia.
+
+"Isn't he a dear?" enquired Lady Peggy of Patricia.  "When other men
+propose to me, and quite a lot have," she added with almost childish
+simplicity, "I always mentally compare them with Daddy, and then of
+course I know I don't want them."
+
+"That is my one reason, Peggy, for not proposing," said Elton.  "I
+could never enter the lists with the Duke."
+
+"You're a pair of ridiculous children," laughed the Duke.
+
+In response to a murmur from Patricia that she must be going, Lady
+Peggy insisted that she should first come upstairs and see her den.
+
+The "den" was a room of orderly disorder, which seemed to possess the
+freshness and charm of its owner.  Lady Peggy looked at Patricia, a new
+respect in her eyes.
+
+"You must be frightfully clever," she said with accustomed seriousness.
+"I wish I were like that.  You see I should be more of a companion to
+Daddy if I were."
+
+"I think you are an ideal companion for him you are," said Patricia.
+
+"Oh! he's so wonderful," said Lady Peggy dreamily.  "You know I'm not
+always such a fool I appear," she added quite seriously, "and I do
+sometimes think of other things than frills and flounces and
+chocolates."  Then with a sudden change of mood she cried, "Wasn't it
+clever of me capturing you to-day?  As soon as you're alone Daddy will
+tell me what he thinks of you, and I shall feel so self-important."
+
+As Patricia looked about the room, charmed with its dainty freshness,
+her eyes lighted upon a large metal tea-tray.  Lady Peggy following her
+gaze cried:
+
+"Oh, the magic carpet!"
+
+"The what?" enquired Patricia.
+
+"That's the magic carpet.  Come, I'll show you," and seizing it she
+preceded Patricia to the top of the stairs.  "Now sit on it," she
+cried, "and toboggan down.  It's priceless."
+
+"But I couldn't."
+
+"Yes you could.  Everybody does," cried Lady Peggy.
+
+Not quite knowing what she was doing Patricia found herself forced down
+upon the tea-tray, and the next thing she knew was she was speeding
+down the stairs at a terrific rate.
+
+Just as she arrived in the hall with flushed cheeks and a flurry of
+skirts, the door of the library opened and the Duke and Elton came out.
+
+Patricia gathered herself together, and with flaming cheeks and
+downcast eyes stood like a child expecting rebuke, instead of which the
+Duke merely smiled.  Turning to Elton he remarked:
+
+"So Miss Brent has received her birth certificate."
+
+As he spoke the butler with sedate decorum picked up the tray and
+carried it into his pantry as if it were the most ordinary thing in the
+world for guests to toboggan down the front staircase.
+
+"To ride on Peggy's 'magic carpet,' as she calls it," said the Duke,
+"is to be admitted to the household as a friend.  Come again soon," he
+added as he shook hands in parting.  "Any Sunday at lunch you are
+always sure to catch us.  We never give special invitations to the
+friends we want, do we, Peggy? and I want to have some more talks with
+you."
+
+As Patricia and Elton walked towards the Park he explained that Lady
+Peggy's tea-tray had figured in many little comedies.  Bishops, Cabinet
+Ministers, great generals and admirals had all descended the stairs in
+the way Patricia had.
+
+"In fact," he added, "when the Duke was in the Cabinet, it was the
+youngest and brightest collection of Ministers in the history of the
+country.  Every one of them was devoted to Peggy, and I think they
+would have made war or peace at her command."
+
+When Patricia arrived at Galvin House, she was conscious of the world
+having changed since the morning.  All her gloom had been dispelled,
+the drawn look had passed from her face, and she felt that a heavy
+weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+THE AIR RAID
+
+"Miss Brent, please get up.  There's an air raid."
+
+Mechanically Patricia sat up in bed and listened.  Outside a
+police-whistle was droning its raucous warning; within there was the
+sound of frightened whispers and the noise of the opening and shutting
+of doors.  Suddenly there was a shriek, followed by a low murmur of
+several voices.  The sound of the police-whistle continued, gradually
+dying away in the distance, and the noises within the house ceased.
+
+Patricia strained her ears to catch the first sound of the defensive
+guns.  She had no intention of getting up for a false alarm.  For some
+minutes there was silence, then came a slight murmur, half sob, half
+sigh, as if London were breathing heavily in her sleep, another
+followed, then half a dozen in quick succession growing louder with
+every report.  Suddenly came the scream of a "whiz-bang" and the
+thunder of a large gun.  Soon the orchestra was in full swing.
+
+Still Patricia listened.  She was fascinated.  Why did guns sound
+exactly as if large plank were being dropped?  Why did the report seem
+as if something were bouncing?  Suddenly a terrific report, a sound as
+if a giant plank had been dropped and had "bounced."  A neighbouring
+gun had given tongue, another followed.
+
+She jumped out of bed and proceeded to pull on her stockings.  There
+was a gentle tapping at her door, not the peremptory summons that had
+awakened her and which, by the voice that had accompanied it, she
+recognised as that of Mrs. Craske-Morton.
+
+"What is it?" she called out.
+
+"It's me, mees."  Patricia could scarcely recognise in the terrified
+accents the voice of Gustave.  "It's a raid.  Oh! mees, please come
+down."
+
+"All right, Gustave.  I shall be down in a minute," replied Patricia,
+and she heard a flurry of retreating footsteps.  Gustave was descending
+to safety.  There was about him nothing of the Roman sentry.
+
+Patricia proceeded with her toilette, hastened, in spite of herself, by
+a tremendous crash which she recognised as a bomb.
+
+At Galvin House "Raid Instructions" had been posted in each room.
+Guests were instructed to hasten with all possible speed downstairs to
+the basement-kitchen, where tea and coffee would be served and, if
+necessary, bandages and first-aid applied.  Miss Sikkum had made a
+superficial study of Red Cross work from a shilling manual but as,
+according to her own confession, she fainted at the sight of blood, no
+very great reliance was placed in her ministrations.
+
+As Patricia entered the kitchen her first inclination was to laugh at
+the amazing variety, not only of toilettes, but of expressions that met
+her eyes.  Self-confident in the knowledge that she was fully dressed,
+she looked about her with interest.
+
+"Oh, here you are, Miss Brent!" exclaimed Mrs. Craske-Morton, who was
+busily engaged in preparing the tea and coffee of the "Raid
+Instructions."  "Gustave would insist on going up to call you a second
+time.  We were----"  Mrs. Craske-Morton broke off her sentence and
+dashed for the gas-stove, where the milk was boiling over.
+
+"Oh, mees!"  Patricia turned to Gustave.  She bit her lip fiercely to
+restrain the laugh that bubbled up at the sight of the major-domo of
+Galvin House.
+
+Above a pair of black trousers, tucked in the tops of unlaced boots,
+and from which the braces flapped aimlessly, was visible the upper part
+of a red flannel night-shirt.  The remainder was bestowed beneath the
+upper part of the trousers, giving to his figure a curiously knobbly
+appearance.  His face was leaden-coloured and his upstanding hair more
+erect than ever, whilst in his eyes was Fear.
+
+He was trembling in every limb, and his jaw shook as he uttered his
+expression of relief at the sight of Patricia.  She smiled at him, then
+suddenly remembering that, in spite of his terror, he had voluntarily
+gone up to the top of the house to call her, she felt something
+strangely uncomfortable at the back of her throat.
+
+"Come along, Gustave!" she cried brightly.  "Let us help get the tea.
+I'm so thirsty."
+
+From that moment Gustave appeared to take himself in hand, and save for
+a violent start, at the more vigorous reports, seemed to have overcome
+his terror.
+
+As Patricia proceeded to assist Mrs. Craske-Morton, a veritable heroine
+in a pink flannel wrapper, she took stock of her fellows.  Miss Wangle
+was engaged in prayer and tears, her wig was awry, her face drawn and
+yellow and her clothes the garb of advanced maidenhood.  On her feet
+were bed-socks, half thrust into felt slippers.  From beneath a black
+quilted dressing-gown peeped with virtuous pride the longcloth of a
+nightdress of Victorian severity.
+
+Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe was in curl-papers and a faded blue kimono that
+allowed no suggestion to escape of the form beneath.  Miss Sikkum had
+seized a grey raincoat, above which a forest of curl papers looked
+strangely out of place.  Her fingers moved restlessly.  The two top
+buttons of the raincoat were missing, displaying a wealth of blue
+ribbon and openwork that none had suspected in her.  The lateness at
+which the ribbon and openwork began gave an interesting demonstration
+in feminine bone structure.
+
+Mr. Sefton was splendid in a purple dressing-gown with orange cord and
+tassels, and red and white striped pyjamas beneath.  Mr. Sefton had
+chosen his raid-costume with elaborate care; but the suddenness of the
+alarm had not allowed of the arrangement of his hair, most of which
+hung down behind in a sandy cascade.  His manner was the forced heroic.
+He was smoking a cigarette with a too obvious nonchalance to deceive.
+The heroes of Mr. Sefton's imagination always lit cigarettes when
+facing death.  They were of the type that seizes a revolver when the
+ship is sinking and, with one foot placed negligently upon the capstan
+(Mr. Sefton had not the most remote idea of what a capstan was like)
+shouted, "Women and children first."
+
+He walked about the kitchen with what he meant to be a smile upon his
+pale lips.  The cigarette he found a nuisance.  If he held it between
+his lips the smoke got in his eyes and made them stream with water; if,
+on the other hand, he held it between his fingers, it emphasized the
+shaking of his hand.  He compromised by letting it go out between his
+lips, arguing that the effect was the same.
+
+Mr. Bolton had donned his fez and velvet smoking-jacket above creased
+white pyjama trousers that refused to meet the tops of his felt
+slippers.  Mr. Bolton continued to make "jokes," for the same reason
+that Mr. Sefton smoked a cigarette.
+
+Mr. Cordal was negative in a big ulster with a hem of nightshirt
+beneath, leaving about eight inches of fleshless shin before his carpet
+slippers with the fur-tops were reached.  He sat gazing with unseeing
+eyes at the cook huddled up opposite, moaning as she held her heart
+with a fat, dirty hand.
+
+Mrs. Barnes, the victim of indecision, had leapt straight out of bed,
+gathered her clothes in her arms and had flown to safety.  She walked
+about the kitchen aimlessly, dropping and retrieving various garments,
+which she stuffed back again into the bundle she carried under her arm.
+
+Mrs. Craske-Morton was practical and courageous.  Her one thought was
+to prepare the promised refreshments.  Her staff, with the exception of
+Gustave, was useless, and she was grateful to Patricia for her
+assistance.
+
+Outside pandemonium was raging, the noise of the barrage was
+diabolical, the "bouncing" of the heavy guns, the screams of the
+"whiz-bangs," the cackle of machine-guns from aeroplanes overhead; all
+seemed to tell of death and chaos.
+
+Suddenly the puny sound of guns was drowned in one gigantic uproar.
+For a moment the place was plunged in darkness, then the electric light
+shuddered into being again.  The glass flew from the windows, the house
+rocked as if uncertain whether or no it should collapse.  Miss Wangle
+slipped on to her knees, her wig slipped on to her left ear.
+
+"Oh, my God!" screamed the cook, as if to ensure exclusive rights to
+the Deity's attention.
+
+Jenny, the housemaid, entirely unconscious that her nightdress was her
+sole garment, threw herself flat on her face.  Mrs. Craske-Morton, who
+was pouring out tea, let the teapot slip from her hand, smashing the
+cup and pouring the contents on to the table.  Gustave's knees refused
+their office and he sank down, grasping with both hands the edge of the
+table.  Mrs. Barnes dropped her clothes without troubling to retrieve
+them.
+
+Suddenly there was a terrifying scream outside, then a motor-car drew
+up and the sound of men's voices was heard.
+
+Still the guns thundered.  Patricia felt herself trembling.  For a
+moment a rush of blood seemed to suffocate her, then she found herself
+gazing at Miss Wangle, wondering whether she were praying to God or to
+the bishop.  She laughed in a voice unrecognisable to herself.  She
+looked about the kitchen.  Mr. Sefton had sunk down upon a chair, the
+cigarette still attached to his bloodless lower lip, his arms hanging
+limply down beside him.  Mr. Cordal was looking about him as if dazed,
+whilst Mr. Bolton was gazing at the glassless window-frames, as if
+expecting some apparition to appear.
+
+"It's a bomb next door," gasped Mrs. Craske-Morton, then remembering
+her responsibilities, she caught Patricia's eye.  There was appeal in
+her glance.
+
+"Come along, Gustave," cried Patricia in a voice that she still found
+it difficult to recognise as her own.
+
+Gustave, still on his knees, looked round and up at her with the eyes
+of a dumb animal that knows it is about to be tortured.
+
+"Gustave, get up and help with the tea," said Patricia.
+
+A look of wonder crept into Gustave's eyes at the unaccustomed tone of
+Patricia's voice.  Slowly he dragged himself up, as if testing the
+capacity of each knee to support the weight of his body.
+
+"There's brandy there," said Mrs. Craske-Morton, pointing to a
+spirit-case she had brought down with her.  "Here's the key."
+
+Patricia took the key from her trembling hand, noting that her own was
+shaking violently.
+
+"Mrs. Morton," she whispered, "you are splendid."
+
+Mrs. Morton smiled wanly, and Patricia felt that in that moment she had
+got to know the woman beneath the boarding-house keeper.
+
+"Shall we put it in their tea?" enquired Patricia, holding the decanter
+of brandy.
+
+Mrs. Craske-Morton nodded.
+
+"Now, Gustave!" cried Patricia, "make everybody drink tea."
+
+Gustave looked at his own hands, and then down at his knees as if in
+doubt as to whether he possessed the power of making them obey his
+wishes.
+
+Miss Wangle was still on her knees, the cook was appealing to the
+Almighty with tiresome reiteration.  Jenny had developed hysterics, and
+was seated on the ground drumming with her heels upon the floor, Miss
+Sikkum gazing at her as if she had been some phenomenon from another
+world.  Mr. Bolton had valiantly pulled himself together and was
+endeavouring to persuade Mrs. Barnes to accept the various garments
+that he was picking up from the floor.  Her only acknowledgment of his
+gallantry was to gaze at him with dull, unseeing eyes, and to wag her
+head from side to side as if in repudiation of the ownership of what he
+was striving to get her to take from him.
+
+Mr. Sefton, valiant to the end, was with trembling fingers endeavouring
+to extract a cigarette from his case, apparently unconscious that one
+was still attached to his lip.  Mrs. Craske-Morton, Patricia and
+Gustave set themselves to work to pour tea and brandy down the throats
+of the others.  Mr. Sefton took his mechanically and put it to his
+lips, oblivious of the cigarette that still dangled there.  Finding an
+obstruction he put up his hand and pulled the cigarette away and with
+it a portion of the skin of his lip.  For the rest of the evening he
+was dabbing his mouth with his pocket-handkerchief.
+
+Gustave had valiantly gone to the assistance of Jenny, and was
+endeavouring to pour tea through her closed teeth, with the result that
+it streamed down the neck of her nightdress.  The effect was the same,
+however.  As she felt the hot fluid on her chest she screamed, stopped
+drumming with her heels and looked about the kitchen.
+
+"You've scalded me, you beast!" she cried, whereat Gustave, who was
+sitting on his heels, started and fell backwards, bringing Miss Sikkum
+down on top of him together with her cup of tea.
+
+Mrs. Craske-Morton was ministering to Miss Wangle and Mrs.
+Mosscrop-Smythe.  Mr. Bolton and Mr. Cordal were both drinking neat
+brandy out of teacups.
+
+Outside the guns still thundered and screamed.
+
+Patricia went to the assistance of the cook; kneeling down she
+persuaded her to drink a cup of tea and brandy, which had the effect of
+silencing her appeals to the Almighty.
+
+For an hour the "guests" of Galvin House waited, exactly what for no
+one knew.  Then the noise of the firing began to die away in waves of
+sound.  There would be a few minutes' silence but for the distant
+rumble of guns, then suddenly a spurt of firing as if the guns were
+reluctant to forget their former anger.  Another period of silence
+would follow, then two or three isolated reports, like the snarl of
+dogs that had been dragged from their prey.  Finally quiet.
+
+For a further half-hour Galvin House waited, praying that the attack
+would not be renewed.  There were little spurts of conversation.  Mr.
+Sefton was slowly returning to the "foot on the Capstan" attitude, and
+actually had a cigarette alight.  Mr. Bolton and Mr. Cordal were
+speculating as to where the bomb had fallen.  Mrs. Craske-Morton was
+wondering if the Government would pay promptly for the damage to her
+glass.
+
+Outside there were sounds of life and movement, cars were throbbing and
+passing to and fro, and men's voices could be heard.  Suddenly there
+was a loud peal of the street-door bell.  All looked at each other in
+consternation.  Gustave looked about him as if he had lost a puppy.
+Mrs. Craske-Morton looked at Gustave.
+
+"Gustave!" said Patricia, surprised at her own calm.
+
+Gustave looked at her for a moment then, remembering his duties, went
+slowly to the door, listening the while as if expecting a further
+bombardment to break out.  With the exception of Miss Wangle and the
+cook, everybody was on the qui vive of expectation.
+
+"It's the police," suggested Mrs. Craske-Morton, with conviction.
+
+"Or the ambulance," ventured Miss Sikkum in a trembling voice.
+"They're collecting the dead," she added optimistically.
+
+All eyes were riveted upon the kitchen door.  Steps were heard
+descending the stairs.  A moment later the door was thrown open and
+Gustave in a voice strangely unlike his own announced:
+
+"'Ees Lordship, madame."
+
+Bowen entered the kitchen and cast a swift look about him.  A light of
+relief passed over his face as he saw Patricia.  Some instinct that she
+could neither explain nor control caused her to go over to him, and
+before she knew what was taking place both her hands were in his.
+
+"Thank God!" he breathed.  "I was afraid it was this house.  I heard a
+bomb had dropped here.  Oh, my dear!  I've been in hell!"
+
+There was something in his voice that thrilled her as she had never
+been thrilled before.  She looked up at him smiling, then suddenly with
+a great content she remembered that she had dressed herself with care.
+
+Bowen looked about him, and seeing Mrs. Craske-Morton, went over and
+shook hands.
+
+"She's a regular heroine, Peter," said Patricia, unconscious that she
+had used his name.  "She's been so splendid."
+
+Mrs. Craske-Morton smiled at Patricia, again her human smile.
+
+"Oh! go away, make him go away!"  It was Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe who
+spoke.  Her words had an electrifying effect upon everyone.  Miss
+Wangle sat up and made feverish endeavours to straighten her wig.
+Jenny, the housemaid, looked round for cover that was nowhere
+available.  The cook became aware of her lack of clothing.  Miss Sikkum
+strove to minimise the exhibition of feminine bone-structure.  Mrs.
+Barnes made a dive for Mr. Bolton, who was still holding various of her
+garments that he had retrieved.  These she seized from him as if he had
+been a pickpocket, and thrust them under her arm.
+
+"Oh, please go away!" moaned the cook.
+
+"Come upstairs," said Patricia as she led the way out of the kitchen,
+to the relief of those whose reawakened modesty saw in Bowen's presence
+an outrage to decorum.  Switching on the light in the lounge, Patricia
+threw herself into a chair.  She was beginning to feel the reaction.
+
+"Why did you come?" she asked.
+
+"I heard that a bomb had fallen in this street and---well, I had to
+come.  I was never in such a funk in all my life."
+
+"How did you get round here; did you bring the car?"
+
+"No, I couldn't get the car out, I walked it," said Bowen briefly.
+
+"That was very sweet of you," said Patricia gratefully, looking up at
+him in a way she had never looked at him before.  "And now I think you
+must be going.  We must all go to bed again."
+
+"Yes, the 'All Clear' will sound soon, I think," replied Bowen.
+
+They moved out into the hall.  For a moment they stood looking at each
+other, then Bowen took both her hands in his.  "I am so glad,
+Patricia," he said, gazing into her eyes, then suddenly he bent down
+and kissed her full on the lips.
+
+Dropping her hands and without another word he picked up his cap and
+let himself out, leaving Patricia standing gazing in front of her.  For
+a moment she stood, then turning as one in a dream, walked slowly
+upstairs to her room.
+
+"I wonder why I let him do that?" she murmured as she stood in front of
+the mirror unpinning her hair.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+GALVIN HOUSE AFTER THE RAID
+
+The next day and for many days Galvin House abandoned itself to the
+raid.  The air was full of rumours of the appalling casualties
+resulting from the bomb that had been dropped in the next street.  No
+one knew anything, everyone had heard something.  The horrors confided
+to each other by the residents at Galvin House would have kept the
+Grand Guignol in realism for a generation.
+
+Silent herself, Patricia watched with interest the ferment around her.
+With the exception of Mrs. Craske-Morton, all seemed to desire most of
+all to emphasize their own attitude of splendid intellectual calm
+during the raid.  They spoke scornfully of acquaintances who had flown
+from London because of the danger from bomb-dropping Gothas, they
+derided the Thames Valley aliens, they talked heroically and
+patriotically about "standing their bit of bombing."  In short Galvin
+House had become a harbour of heroism.
+
+Mrs. Craske-Morton, who had shown a calmness and courage that none of
+the others seemed to recognise, had nothing to say except about her
+broken glass; on this subject, however, she was eloquent.  Miss Wangle
+managed to convey to those who would listen that her own safety, and in
+fact that of Galvin House, was directly due to the intercession of the
+bishop, who when alive was particularly noted for the power and
+sustained eloquence of his prayers.
+
+Mr. Bolton was frankly sceptical.  If the august prelate was out to
+save Galvin House, he suggested, it wasn't quite cricket to let them
+drop a bomb in the next street.
+
+Everyone was extremely critical of everyone else.  Mr. Bolton said
+things about Mrs. Barnes and her clothes that made Miss Sikkum blush,
+particularly about the nose, where, with her, emotion always first
+manifested itself.  Mr. Sefton had permanently returned to the "women
+and children first" phase and, as two cigarettes were missing from his
+case, he was convinced that he had acquitted himself with that air of
+reckless bravado that endeared a man to women.  He talked pityingly and
+tolerantly of Gustave's obvious terror.
+
+Mr. Bolton saw in the adventure material for jokes for months to come.
+He laboured at the subject with such misguided industry that Patricia
+felt she almost hated him.  Some of his allusions, particularly to the
+state of sartorial indecision in which the maids had sought cover, were
+"not quite nice," as Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe expressed it to Mrs.
+Hamilton, who returned from a visit the day following.
+
+At breakfast everyone had talked, and in consequence everyone who
+worked was late for work; the general opinion being, what was the use
+of a raid unless you could be late for work?  Punctuality on such
+occasions being regarded as the waste of an opportunity, and a direct
+rebuke to Providence who had placed it there.
+
+Patricia did not take part in the general babel, beyond pointing out,
+when Gustave was coming under discussion, that it was he who had gone
+to the top of the house to call her.  She looked meaningly at Mr.
+Bolton and Mr. Sefton, who had the grace to appear a little ashamed of
+themselves.
+
+When Patricia returned in the evening, she found Lady Tanagra awaiting
+her in the lounge, literally bombarded with different accounts of what
+had happened--all narrated in the best "eye-witness" manner of the
+alarmist press.  Following the precept of Charles Lamb, Galvin House
+had apparently striven to correct the bad impression made through
+lateness in beginning work by leaving early.
+
+It was obvious that Lady Tanagra had made herself extremely popular.
+Everyone was striving to gain her ear for his or her story of personal
+experiences.
+
+"Ah, here you are!" cried Lady Tanagra as Patricia entered.  "I hear
+you behaved like a heroine last night."
+
+Mrs. Craske-Morton nodded her head with conviction.
+
+"Mrs. Morton was the real heroine," said Patricia.  "She was splendid!"
+
+Mrs. Craske-Morton flushed.  To be praised before so distinguished a
+caller was almost embarrassing, especially as no one had felt it
+necessary to comment upon her share in the evening's excitement.
+
+"Come up with me while I take off my things," said Patricia, as she
+moved towards the door.  She saw that any private talk between herself
+and Lady Tanagra would be impossible in the lounge with Galvin House in
+its present state of ferment.
+
+In Patricia's room Lady Tanagra subsided into a chair with a sigh.  "I
+feel as if I were a celebrity arriving at New York," she laughed.
+
+"They're rather excited," smiled Patricia, "but then we live such a
+humdrum life here--the expression is Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe's--and much
+should be forgiven them.  A book could be written on the boarding-house
+mind, I think.  It moves in a vicious circle.  If someone would only
+break out and give the poor dears something to talk about."
+
+"Didn't you do that?" enquired Lady Tanagra slily.
+
+Patricia smiled wearily.  "I take second place now to the raid.  Think
+of living here for the next few weeks.  They will think raid, read
+raid, talk raid and dream raid."  She shuddered.  "Thank heavens I'm
+off to-morrow."
+
+"Off to-morrow?" Lady Tanagra raised her eyes in interrogation.
+
+"Yes, to Eastbourne for a fortnight's holiday as provided for in the
+arrangement existing between one Patricia Brent and Arthur Bonsor,
+Esquire, M.P.  It's part of the wages of the sin of secretaryship."
+Patricia sighed.
+
+"I hope you'll enjoy----"
+
+"Please don't be conventional," interrupted Patricia.  "I shall not
+enjoy it in the least.  Within twenty-four hours I shall long to be
+back again.  I shall get up in the morning and I shall go to bed at
+night.  In between I shall walk a bit, read a bit, get my nose red
+(thank heavens it doesn't peel) and become bored to extinction.  One
+thing I won't do, that is wear openwork frocks.  The sun shall not
+print cheap insertion kisses upon Patricia Brent."
+
+"You're quite sure that it is a holiday," Lady Tanagra looked up
+quizzically at Patricia as she stood gazing out of the window.
+
+"A holiday!" repeated Patricia, looking round.
+
+"It sounded just a little depressing," said Lady Tanagra.
+
+"It will be exactly what it sounds," Patricia retorted; "only
+depressing is not quite the right word, it's too polite.  You don't
+know what it is to be lonely, Tanagra, and live at Galvin House, and
+try to haul or push a politician into a rising posture.  It reminds me
+of Carlyle on the Dutch."  There was a note of fierce protest in her
+voice.  "You have all the things that I want, and I wonder I don't
+scratch your face and tear your hair out.  We are all primitive in our
+instincts really."  Then she laughed.  "Well!  I had to cry out to
+someone, and I shall feel better.  It's rather a beastly world for some
+of us, you know; but I suppose I ought to be spanked for being
+ungrateful."
+
+"Do you know why I've come?" enquired Lady Tanagra, thinking it wise to
+change the subject.
+
+Patricia shook her head.  "A more conceited person might have suggested
+that it was to see me," she said demurely.
+
+"To apologise for Peter," said Lady Tanagra.  "He disobeyed orders and
+I am very angry with him."
+
+Patricia flushed at the memory of their good-night.  For a few seconds
+she stood silent, looking out of the window.
+
+"I think it was rather sweet of him," she said without looking round.
+
+Lady Tanagra smiled slightly.  "Then I may forgive him, you think?" she
+enquired.
+
+Patricia turned and looked at her.  Lady Tanagra met the gaze
+innocently.
+
+"He wanted to write to you and send some flowers and chocolates; but I
+absolutely forbade it.  We almost had our first quarrel," she added
+mendaciously.
+
+For the space of a second Patricia hated Lady Tanagra.  She would have
+liked to turn and rend her for interfering in a matter that could not
+possibly be regarded as any concern of hers.  The feeling, however, was
+only momentary and, when Lady Tanagra rose to go, Patricia was as
+cordial as ever.
+
+From Galvin House Lady Tanagra drove to the Quadrant.
+
+"Peter!" she cried as she entered the room and threw herself into an
+easy chair, "if ever I again endeavour to divert true love from its
+normal----"
+
+"How is she?"' interrupted Bowen.
+
+"Now you've spoiled it," cried Lady Tanagra, "and it was----"
+
+"Spoiled what?" demanded Bowen.
+
+"My beautiful phrase about true love and its normal channel, and I have
+been saying it over to myself all the way from Galvin House."  She
+looked reproachfully at her brother.
+
+"How's Patricia?" demanded Bowen eagerly.
+
+"Fair to moderately fair, rain later, I should describe her," replied
+Lady Tanagra, helping herself to a cigarette which Bowen lighted.
+"She's going away."
+
+"Good heavens!  Where?" cried Bowen.
+
+"Eastbourne."
+
+"When?"
+
+"To-morrow."
+
+"Damn!"
+
+"My dear Peter," remarked Lady Tanagra lazily, "this primitive
+profanity ill becomes----"
+
+"Please don't rot me, Tan," he pleaded.  "I've had a rotten time
+lately."
+
+There was helpless and hopeless pain in Bowen's voice that caused Lady
+Tanagra to spring up from her chair and go over to him.
+
+"Carry on, old boy," she cried softly, as she caressed his coat-sleeve.
+"It's your only chance.  You're going to win."
+
+"I must see her!" blurted out Bowen.
+
+"If you do you'll spoil everything," announced Lady Tanagra with
+conviction.
+
+"But, last night," began Bowen and paused.
+
+"Last night, I think," said Lady Tanagra, "was a master-stroke.  She is
+touched; it's taken us forward at least a week."
+
+"But look here, Tan," said Bowen gloomily, "you told me to leave it all
+in your hands and you make me treat her rottenly, then you say----"
+
+"That you know about as much of how to make a woman like Patricia fall
+in love with you as an ostrich does of geology," said Lady Tanagra
+calmly.
+
+"But what will she think?" demanded Bowen.
+
+"At present she is thinking that Eastbourne will be a nightmare of
+loneliness."
+
+"I'll run down and see her," announced Bowen.
+
+"If you do, Peter!"  There was a note of warning in Lady Tanagra's
+voice.
+
+"All right," he conceded gloomily.  "I'll give you another week, and
+then I'll go my own way."
+
+"Peter, if you were smaller and I were bigger I think I should spank
+you," laughed Lady Tanagra.  Then with great seriousness she said, "I
+want you to marry her, and I'm going the only way to work to make her
+let you.  Do try and trust me, Peter."
+
+Bowen looked down at her with a smile, touched by the look in her eyes.
+For a moment his arm rested across her shoulders.  Then he pushed her
+towards the door.  "Clear out, Tan.  I'm not fit for a bear-pit
+to-night."
+
+The Bowens were never demonstrative with one another.
+
+For half an hour Bowen sat smoking one cigarette after another until he
+was interrupted by the entrance of Peel, who, after a comprehensive
+glance round the room, proceeded to administer here and there those
+deft touches that emphasize a patient and orderly mind.  Bowen watched
+him as he moved about on the balls of his feet.
+
+"Have you ever been to Eastbourne, Peel?" enquired Bowen presently.
+Just why he asked the question he could not have said.
+
+"Only once, my lord," replied Peel as he replaced the full ash-tray on
+the table by Bowen with a clean one.  There was a note in his voice
+implying that nothing would ever tempt him to go there again.
+
+"You don't like it?" suggested Bowen.
+
+"I dislike it intensely, my lord," replied Peel as he refolded a copy
+of _The Times_.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"It has unpleasant associations, my lord," was the reply.
+
+Bowen smiled.  After a moment's silence he continued:
+
+"Been sowing wild oats there?"
+
+"No, my lord, not exactly."
+
+"Well, if it's not too private," said Bowen, "tell me what happened.
+At the moment I'm particularly interested in the place."
+
+Peel gazed reproachfully at a copy of _The Sphere_, which had managed
+in some strange way to get its leaves dog-eared.  As he proceeded to
+smooth them out he continued:
+
+"It was when I was young, my lord.  I was engaged to be married.  I
+thought her a most excellent young woman, in every way suitable.  She
+went down to Eastbourne for a holiday."  He paused.
+
+"Well, there doesn't seem much wrong in that," said Bowen.
+
+"From Eastbourne she wrote, saying that she had changed her mind,"
+proceeded Peel.
+
+"The devil she did!" exclaimed Bowen.  "And what did you do?"
+
+"I went down to reason with her, my lord," said Peel.
+
+"Does one reason with a woman, Peel?" enquired Bowen with a smile.
+
+"I was very young then, my lord, not more than thirty-two."  Peel's
+tone was apologetic.  "I discovered that she had received an offer of
+marriage from another."
+
+"Hard luck!" murmured Bowen.
+
+"Not at all, my lord, really," said Peel philosophically.  "I
+discovered that she had re-engaged herself to a butcher, a most
+offensive fellow.  His language when I expostulated with him was
+incredibly coarse, and I am sure he used marrow for his hair."
+
+"And what did you do?" enquired Bowen.
+
+"I had taken a return ticket, my lord.  I came back to London."
+
+Bowen laughed.  "I'm afraid you couldn't have been very badly hit,
+Peel, or you would not have been able to take it quite so
+philosophically."
+
+"I have never allowed my private affairs to interfere with my
+professional duties, my lord," replied Peel unctuously.
+
+For five minutes Bowen smoked in silence.  "So you do not believe in
+marriage," he said at length.
+
+"I would not say that, my lord; but I do not think it suitable for a
+man of temperament such as myself.  I have known marriages quite
+successful where too much was not required of the contracting parties."
+
+"But don't you believe in love?" enquired Bowen.
+
+"Love, my lord, is like a disease.  If you are on the look out for it
+you catch it, if you ignore it, it does not trouble you.  I was once
+with a gentleman who was very nervous about microbes.  He would never
+eat anything that had not been cooked, and he had everything about him
+disinfected.  He even disinfected me," he added as if in proof of the
+extreme eccentricity of his late employer.
+
+"So I suppose you despise me for having fallen in love and
+contemplating marriage," said Bowen with a smile.
+
+"There are always exceptions, my lord," responded Peel tactfully.  "I
+have prepared the bath."
+
+"Peel," remarked Bowen as he rose and stretched himself, "disinfected
+or not disinfected, you are safe from the microbe of romance."
+
+"I hope so, my lord," responded Peel as he opened the door.
+
+"I wonder if history will repeat itself," murmured Bowen as he walked
+through his bedroom into the bathroom.  "I, too, hate Eastbourne."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+A RACE WITH SPINSTERHOOD
+
+Before she had been at Eastbourne twenty-four hours Patricia was
+convinced that she had made a mistake in going there.  With no claims
+upon her time, the restlessness that had developed in London increased
+until it became almost unbearable.  The hotel at which she was staying
+was little more than a glorified boarding-house, full of "the most
+jungly of jungle-people," as she expressed it to herself.  Their
+well-meant and kindly efforts to engage her in their pursuits and
+pleasures she received with apathetic negation.  At length her
+fellow-guests, seeing that she was determined not to respond to their
+overtures, left her severely alone.  The men were the last to desist.
+
+She came to dislike the pleasure-seekers about her and grew critical of
+everything she saw, the redness of the women's faces, the assumed
+youthfulness of the elderly men, the shapelessness of matrons who
+seemed to delight in bright open-work blouses and juvenile hats.  She
+remembered Elton's remark that Fashion uncovers a multitude of shins.
+The shins exposed at Eastbourne were she decided, sufficient to
+undermine one's belief in the early chapters of Genesis.
+
+At one time she would have been amused at the types around her, and
+their various conceptions of "one crowded hour of glorious life."  As
+it was, everything seemed sordid and trivial.  Why should people lose
+all sense of dignity and proportion at a set period of the year?  It
+was, she decided, almost as bad as being a hare.
+
+All she wanted was to be alone, she told herself; yet as soon as she
+had discovered some secluded spot and had settled herself down to read,
+the old restlessness attacked her, and fight against it as she might,
+she was forced back again to the haunts of men.
+
+For the first few days she watched eagerly for letters.  None came.
+She would return to the hotel several times a day, look at the
+letter-rack, then, to hide her disappointment, make a pretence of
+having returned for some other purpose.  "Why had not Bowen written?"
+she asked herself, then a moment after she strove to convince herself
+that he had forgotten, or at least that she was only an episode in his
+life.
+
+His sudden change from eagerness to indifference caused her to flush
+with humiliation; yet he had gone to Galvin House during the raid to
+assure himself of her safety.  Why had he not written after what had
+occurred?  Perhaps Aunt Adelaide was right about men after all.
+
+Patricia wrote to Lady Tanagra, Mrs. Hamilton, Lady Peggy, Mr. Triggs,
+even to Miss Sikkum.  In due course answers arrived; but in only Miss
+Sikkum's letter was there any reference to Bowen, a gush of sentiment
+about "how happy you must be, dear Miss Brent, with Lord Bowen running
+down to see you every other day.  I know!" she added with maidenly
+prescience.  Patricia laughed.
+
+Mr. Triggs committed himself to nothing more than two and three-quarter
+pages, mainly about his daughter and "A. B.," Mr. Triggs was not at his
+best as a correspondent.  Lady Tanagra ran to four pages; but as her
+handwriting was large, five lines filling a page, her letter was
+disappointing.
+
+Lady Peggy was the most productive.  In the course of twelve pages of
+spontaneity she told Patricia that the Duke and the Cabinet Minister
+had almost quarrelled about her, Patricia.  "Peter has been to lunch
+with us and Daddy has told him how lucky he is, and how wonderful you
+are.  If Peter is not very careful, I shall have you presented to me as
+a stepmother.  Wouldn't it be priceless!" she wrote.  "Oh!  What am I
+writing?"  She ended with the Duke's love, and an insistence that
+Patricia should lunch at Curzon Street the first Sunday after her
+return.
+
+Patricia found Lady Peggy's letter charming.  She was pleased to know
+that she had made a good impression and was admired--by the right
+people.  Twenty-four hours, however, found her once more thrown back
+into the trough of her own despondency.  Instinctively she began to
+count the days until this "dire compulsion of infertile days" should
+end.  She could not very well return to London and say that she was
+tired of holiday-making.  Galvin House would put its own construction
+upon her action and words, and whatever that construction might be, it
+was safe to assume that it would be an unpleasant one.
+
+There were moments when a slight uplifting of the veil enabled her to
+see herself as she must appear to others.
+
+"Patricia!" she exclaimed one morning to her reflection in a rather
+dubious mirror.  "You're a cumberer of the earth and, furthermore,
+you've got a beastly temper," and she jabbed a pin through her hat and
+partly into her head.
+
+As the days passed she found herself wondering what was the earliest
+day she could return.  If she made it the Friday night, would it arouse
+suspicion?  She decided that it would, and settled to leave Eastbourne
+on the Saturday afternoon.
+
+As the train steamed out of the station she made a grimace in the
+direction of the town, just as an inoffensive and prematurely bald
+little man opposite looked up from his paper.  He gave Patricia one
+startled look through his gold-rimmed spectacles and, for the rest of
+the journey, buried himself behind his paper, fearful lest Patricia
+should "make another face at him," as he explained to his mother that
+evening.
+
+"She's come home in a nice temper!" was Miss Wangle's diagnosis of the
+mood in which Patricia reached Galvin House.
+
+Gustave regarded her with anxious concern.
+
+The first dinner drove her almost mad.  The raid, as a topic of
+conversation, was on the wane, although Mr. Bolton worked at it nobly,
+and Patricia found herself looked upon to supply the necessary material
+for the evening's amusement.  What had she done?  Where had she been?
+Had she bathed?  Were the dresses pretty?  How many times had Bowen
+been down?  Had she met any nice people?  Was it true that the costumes
+of the women were disgraceful?
+
+At last, with a forced laugh, Patricia told them that she must have
+"notice" of such questions, and everybody had looked at her in
+surprise, until Mr. Bolton's laugh rang out, and he explained the
+parliamentary allusion.
+
+When at last, under pretence of being tired, she was able to escape to
+her room, she felt that another five minutes would have turned her
+brain.
+
+Sunday dawned, and with it the old panorama of iterations unfolded
+itself: Mr. Bolton's velvet coat and fez, Mr. Cordal's carpet slippers
+with the fur tops, Mrs. Barnes' indecision, Mr. Sefton's genial and
+romantic optimism, Miss Sikkum's sumptuary excesses; all presented
+themselves in due sequence just as they had done for--"was it
+centuries?" Patricia asked herself.  To crown all it was a roast-pork
+Sunday, and the reek of onions preparing for the seasoning filled the
+house.
+
+Patricia felt that the fates were fighting against her.  In nerving
+herself for the usual human Sunday ordeal, she had forgotten the
+vegetable menace, in other words that it was "pork Sunday."  Mr. Bolton
+was always more than usually trying on Sundays; but reinforced by
+onions he was almost unbearable.  Patricia fled.
+
+It was the Sunday before August Bank Holiday.  Patricia shuddered at
+the remembrance.  It meant that people were away.  She did not pause to
+think that her world was at home, pursuing its various paths whereby to
+cultivate an appetite worthy of the pork that was even then sizzling in
+the Galvin House kitchen under the eagle eye of the cook, who prided
+herself on her "crackling," which Galvin House crunched with noisy
+gusto.
+
+Patricia sank down upon a chair far back under the trees opposite the
+Stanhope Gate.  Here she remained in a vague way watching the people,
+yet unconscious of their presence.  From time to time some snatch of
+meaningless conversation would reach her.  "You know Betty's such a
+sport?" one man said to another.  Patricia found herself wondering what
+Betty was like and what, to the speaker's mind, constituted being a
+sport.  Was Betty pretty?  She must be, Patricia decided; no one cared
+whether or no a plain girl were a sport.  She found herself wanting to
+know Betty.  What were the lives of all these people, these shadows,
+that were moving to and fro in front of her, each intent upon something
+that seemed of vital importance?  Were they----?
+
+"I doubt if Cassandra could have looked more gloomily prophetic."
+
+She turned with a start and saw Geoffrey Elton smiling down upon her.
+
+"Did I look as bad as that?" she enquired, as he took a seat beside her.
+
+"You looked as if you were gratuitously settling the destinies of the
+world," he replied.
+
+"In a way I suppose I was," she said musingly.  "You see they all mean
+something," indicating the paraders with a nod of her head, "tragedy,
+comedy, farce, sometimes all three.  If you only stop to think about
+life, it all seems so hopeless.  I feel sometimes that I could run away
+from it all."
+
+"That in the Middle Ages would have been diagnosed as the monastic
+spirit," said Elton.  "It arose, and no doubt continues in most cases
+to arise from a sluggish liver."
+
+"How dreadful!" laughed Patricia.  "The inference is obvious."
+
+"The world's greatest achievements and greatest tragedies could no
+doubt be traced directly to rebellious livers: Waterloo and 'Hamlet'
+are instances."
+
+"Are you serious?" enquired Patricia.  She was never quite certain of
+Elton.
+
+"In a way I suppose I am," he replied.  "If I were a pathologist I
+should write a book upon _The Influence of Disease upon the Destinies
+of the World_.  The supreme monarch is the microbe.  The Germans have
+shown that they recognise this."
+
+"Ugh!"  Patricia shuddered.
+
+"Of course you have to make some personal sacrifice in the matter of
+self-respect first," continued Elton, "but after that the rest becomes
+easy."
+
+"I suppose that is what a German victory would mean," said Patricia.
+
+"Yes; we should give up lead and nickel and T.N.T., and invent germ
+distributors.  Essen would become a great centre of germ-culture,
+and----"
+
+"Oh! please let us talk about something else," cried Patricia.  "It's
+horrible!"
+
+"Well!" said Elton with a smile, "shall we continue our talk over
+lunch, if you have no engagement?"
+
+"Lady Peggy asked me----" began Patricia.
+
+"They're away in Somerset," said Elton, "so now I claim you as my
+victim.  It is your destiny to save me from my own thoughts."
+
+"And yours to save me from roast pork and apple sauce," said Patricia,
+rising.  As they walked towards Hyde Park Corner she explained the
+Galvin House cuisine.
+
+They lunched at the Ritz and, to her surprise Patricia found herself
+eating with enjoyment, a thing she had not done for weeks past.  She
+decided that it must be a revulsion of feeling after the menace of
+roast pork.  Elton was a good talker, with a large experience of life
+and a considerable fund of general information.
+
+"I should like to travel," said Patricia as she sipped her coffee in
+the lounge.
+
+"Why?"  Elton held a match to her cigarette.
+
+"Oh!  I suppose because it is enjoyable," replied Patricia; "besides,
+it educates," she added.
+
+"That is too conventional to be worthy of you," said Elton.
+
+"How?" queried Patricia.
+
+"Most of the dull people I know ascribe their dullness to lack of
+opportunities for travel.  They seem to think that a voyage round the
+world will make brilliant talkers of the toughest bores."
+
+"Am I as tedious as that?" enquired Patricia, looking up with a smile.
+
+"Your friend, Mr. Triggs, for instance," continued Elton, passing over
+Patricia's remark.  "He has not travelled, and he is always
+interesting.  Why?"
+
+"I suppose because he is Mr. Triggs," said Patricia half to herself.
+
+"Exactly," said Elton.  "If you were really yourself you would not
+be----"
+
+"So dull," broke in Patricia with a laugh.
+
+"So lonely," continued Elton, ignoring the interruption.
+
+"Why do you say that?" demanded Patricia.  "It's not exactly a
+compliment."
+
+"Intellectual loneliness may be the lot of the greatest social success."
+
+"But why do you think I am lonely?" persisted Patricia.
+
+"Let us take Mr. Triggs as an illustration.  He is direct, unversed in
+diplomacy, golden-hearted, with a great capacity for friendship and
+sentiment.  When he is hurt he shows it as plainly as a child,
+therefore we none of us hurt him."
+
+"He's a dear!" murmured Patricia half to herself.
+
+"If he were in love he would never permit pride to disguise it."
+
+Patricia glanced up at Elton: but he was engaged in examining the end
+of his cigarette.
+
+"He would credit the other person with the same sincerity as himself,"
+continued Elton.  "The biggest rogue respects an honest man, that is
+why we, who are always trying to disguise our emotions, admire Mr.
+Triggs, who would just as soon wear a red beard and false eyebrows as
+seek to convey a false impression."
+
+Patricia found herself wondering why Elton had selected this topic.
+She was conscious that it was not due to chance.
+
+"Is it worth it?"  Elton's remark, half command, half question, seemed
+to stab through her thoughts.
+
+She looked up at him, her eyes a little widened with surprise.
+
+"Is what worth what?" she enquired.
+
+"I was just wondering," said Elton, "if the Triggses are not very wise
+in eating onions and not bothering about what the world will think."
+
+"Eating onions!" cried Patricia.
+
+"My medical board is on Tuesday up North," said Elton, "and I shall
+hope to get back to France.  You see things in a truer perspective when
+you're leaving town under such conditions."
+
+Patricia was silent for some time.  Elton's remarks sometimes wanted
+thinking out.
+
+"You think we should take happiness where we can find it?" she asked.
+
+"Well!  I think we are too much inclined to render unto Caesar the
+things which are God's," he replied gravely.
+
+"Do you appreciate that you are talking in parables?" said Patricia.
+
+"That is because I do not possess Mr. Triggs's golden gift of
+directness."
+
+Suddenly Patricia glanced at her watch.  "Why, it's five minutes to
+three!" she cried.  "I had no idea it was so late."
+
+"I promised to run round to say good-bye to Peter at three," Elton
+remarked casually, as he passed through the lounge.
+
+"Good-bye!" cried Patricia in surprise.
+
+"He is throwing up his staff appointment, and has applied to rejoin his
+regiment in France."
+
+For a moment Patricia stopped dead, then with a great effort she passed
+through the revolving door into the sunlight.  Her knees seemed
+strangely shaky, and she felt thankful when she saw the porter hail a
+taxi.  Elton handed her in and closed the door.
+
+"Galvin House?" he interrogated.
+
+"When does he go?" asked Patricia in a voice that she could not keep
+even in tone.
+
+"As soon as the War Office approves," said Elton.
+
+"Does Lady Tanagra know?" she asked.
+
+"No, Peter will not tell her until everything is settled," he replied.
+
+As the taxi sped westwards Patricia was conscious that some strange
+change had come over her.  She had the feeling that follows a long bout
+of weeping.  Peter was going away!  Suddenly everything was changed!
+Everything was explained!  She must see him!  Prevent him from going
+back to France!  He was going because of her!  He would be killed and
+it would be her fault!
+
+Arrived at Galvin House she went straight to her room.  For two hours
+she lay on her bed, her mind in a turmoil, her head feeling as if it
+were being compressed into a mould too small for it.  No matter how she
+strove to control them, her thoughts inevitably returned to the phrase,
+"Peter is going to France."
+
+Unknown to herself, she was fighting a great fight with her pride.  She
+must see him, but how?  If she telephoned it would be an unconditional
+surrender.  She could never respect herself again.  "When you are in
+love you take pleasure in trampling your pride underfoot."  The phrase
+persisted in obtruding itself.  Where had she heard it?  What was
+pride? she asked herself.  One might be very lonely with pride as one's
+sole companion.  What would Mr. Triggs say?  She could see his forehead
+corrugated with trying to understand what pride had to do with love.
+Even Elton, self-restrained, almost self-sufficient, admitted that Mr.
+Triggs was right.
+
+If she let Peter go?  A year hence, a month perhaps, she might have
+lost him.  Of what use would her pride be then?  She had not known
+before; but now she knew how much Peter meant to her.  Since he had
+come into her life everything had changed, and she had grown
+discontented with the things that, hitherto, she had tacitly accepted
+as her portion.
+
+"You're fretting, me dear!"  Mr. Triggs's remark came back to her.  She
+recalled how indignant she had been.  Why?  Because it was true.  She
+had been cross.  She remembered the old man's anxiety lest he had
+offended her.  She almost smiled as she recalled his clumsy effort to
+explain away his remark.
+
+She had heard someone knock gently at her door, once, twice, three
+times.  She made no response.  Then Gustave's voice whispered, "Tea is
+served in the looaunge, mees."  She heard him creep away with clumsy
+stealth.  There was a sweet-natured creature.  He could never disguise
+an emotion.  He had come upstairs during the raid, though in obvious
+terror, in order to save her.  Mr. Triggs, Gustave, Elton, all were
+against her.  She knew that in some subtle way they were working to
+fight _her_ pride.
+
+For some time longer she lay, then suddenly she sprang up.  First she
+bathed her face, then undid her hair, finally she changed her frock and
+powdered her nose.
+
+"Hurry up, Patricia! or you may think better of it," she cried to her
+reflection in the glass.  "This is a race with spinsterhood."
+
+Going downstairs quietly she went to the telephone.
+
+"Gerrard 60000," she called, conscious that both her voice and her
+knees were unsteady.
+
+After what seemed an age there came the reply, "Quadrant Hotel."
+
+"Is Lord Peter Bowen in?" she enquired.  "Thank you," she added in
+response to the clerk's promise to enquire.
+
+Her hand was shaking.  She almost dropped the receiver.  He must be
+out, she told herself, after what seemed to her an age of waiting.  If
+he were in they would have found him.  Perhaps he had already started
+for----
+
+"Who is that?"  It was Bowen's voice.
+
+Patricia felt she could sing.  So he had not gone!  Would her knees
+play her false and cheat her?
+
+"It's--it's me," she said, regardless of grammar.
+
+"That's delightful; but who is me?" came the response.
+
+No wonder woman liked him if he spoke like that to them, she decided.
+
+Suddenly she realised that even she herself could not recognise as her
+own the voice with which she was speaking.
+
+"Patricia," she said.
+
+"Patricia!"  There was astonishment, almost incredulity in his voice.
+So Elton had said nothing.  "Where are you?  Can I see you?"
+
+Patricia felt her cheeks burn at the eagerness of his tone.
+
+"I'm--I'm going out.  I--I'll call for you if you like," she stammered.
+
+"I say, how ripping of you.  Come in a taxi or shall I come and fetch
+you?"
+
+"No, I--I'm coming now, I'm----" then she put up the receiver.  What
+was she going to do or say?  For a moment she swayed.  Was she going to
+faint?  A momentary deadly sickness seemed to overcome her.  She fought
+it back fiercely.  She must get to the Quadrant.  "I shall have to be a
+sort of reincarnation of Mrs. Triggs, I think," she murmured as she
+staggered past the astonished Gustave, who was just coming from the
+lounge, and out of the front door, where she secured a taxi.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+THE GREATEST INDISCRETION
+
+
+I
+
+In the vestibule of the Quadrant stood Peel, looking a veritable
+colossus of negation.  As Patricia approached he bowed and led the way
+to the lift.  As it slid upwards Patricia wondered if Peel could hear
+the thumping of her heart, and if so, what he thought of it.  She
+followed him along the carpeted corridor conscious of a mad desire to
+turn and fly.  What would Peel do? she wondered.  Possibly in the
+madness of the moment his mantle of discretion might fall from him, and
+he would dash after her.  What a sensation for the Quadrant!  A girl
+tearing along as if for her life pursued by a gentleman's servant.  It
+would look just like the poster of "Charley's Aunt."
+
+Peel opened the door of Bowen's sitting-room, and Patricia entered with
+the smile still on her lips that the thought of "Charley's Aunt" had
+aroused.  Something seemed to spring towards her from inside the room,
+and she found herself caught in a pair of arms and kissed.  She
+remembered wondering if Peel were behind, or if he had closed the door,
+then she abandoned herself to Bowen's embrace.
+
+Everything seemed somehow changed.  It was as if someone had suddenly
+shouldered her responsibilities, and she would never have to think
+again for herself.  Her lips, her eyes, her hair, were kissed in turn.
+She was being crushed; yet she was conscious only of a feeling of
+complete content.
+
+Suddenly the realisation of what was happening dawned upon her, and she
+strove to free herself.  With all her force she pushed Bowen from her.
+He released her.  She stood back looking at him with crimson cheeks and
+unseeing eyes.  She was conscious that something unusual was happening
+to her, something in which she appeared to have no voice.  Perhaps it
+was all a dream.  She swayed a little.  The same sensation she had
+fought back at the telephone was overcoming her.  Was she going to
+faint?  It would be ridiculous to faint in Bowen's rooms.  Why did
+people faint?  Was it really, as Aunt Adelaide had told her, because
+the heart missed a beat?  One beat----
+
+She felt Bowen's arm round her, she seemed to sway towards a chair.
+Was the chair really moving away from her?  Then the mist seemed to
+clear.  Someone was kneeling beside her.
+
+Bowen gazed at her anxiously.  Her face was now colourless, and her
+eyes closed wearily.  She sighed as a tired child sighs before falling
+asleep.
+
+"Patricia! what is the matter?" cried Bowen In alarm.  "You haven't
+fainted, have you?"
+
+She was conscious of the absurdity of the question.  She opened her
+eyes with a curious fluttering movement of the lids, as if they were
+uncertain how long they could remain unclosed.  A slow, tired smile
+played across her face, like a passing shaft of sunshine, then the lids
+closed again and the life seemed to go out of her body.
+
+Bowen gently withdrew his arm and, rising, strode across to a table on
+which was a decanter of whisky and syphon of soda.  With unsteady
+hands, he poured whisky and soda into a glass and, returning to
+Patricia, he passed his arm gently behind her head, placing the glass
+against her lips.  She drank a little and then, with a shudder, turned
+her head aside.  A moment later her eyes opened again.  She looked
+round the room, then fixed her gaze on Bowen as if trying to explain to
+herself his presence.  Gradually the colour returned to her cheeks and
+she sighed deeply.  She shook her head as Bowen put the glass against
+her lips.
+
+"I nearly fainted," she whispered, sighing again.  "I've never done
+such a thing."  Then after a pause she added, "I wonder what has
+happened.  My head feels so funny."
+
+"It's all my fault," said Bowen penitently.  "I've waited so long, and
+I seemed to go mad.  You will forgive me, dearest, won't you?" his
+voice was full of concern.
+
+Patricia smiled.  "Have I been here long?" she asked.  "It seems ages
+since I came."
+
+"No; only about five minutes.  Oh, Patricia! you won't do it again,
+will you?"  Bowen drew her nearer to him and upset the glass containing
+the remains of the whisky and soda that he had placed on the floor
+beside him.
+
+"I didn't quite faint, really," she said earnestly, as if defending
+herself from a reproach.
+
+"I mean throw me over," explained Bowen.  "It's been hell!"
+
+"Please go and sit down," she said, moving restlessly.  "I'm all right
+now.  I--I want to talk and I can't talk like this."  Again she smiled,
+and Bowen lifted her hand and kissed it gently.  Rising he drew a chair
+near her and sat down.
+
+"You see all this comes of trying to be a Mrs. Triggs," she said
+regretfully.
+
+"Mrs. Triggs!"  Bowen looked at her anxiously.
+
+Slowly and a little wearily Patricia explained her conversation with
+Elton.  "Didn't he tell you he had seen me?"
+
+"No," replied Bowen, relieved at the explanation; "Godfrey is a perfect
+dome of silence on occasion."
+
+"Why did you suddenly leave me all alone, Peter?" Patricia enquired
+presently.  "I couldn't understand.  It hurt me terribly.  I didn't
+realise"--she paused--"oh, everything, until I heard you were going
+away.  Oh, my dear!" she cried in a low voice, "be gentle with me.  I'm
+all bruises."
+
+Bowen bent across to her.  "I'm a brute," he said, "but----"
+
+She shook her head.  "Not that sort," she said.  "It's my pride I've
+bruised.  I seem to have turned everything upside down.  You'll have to
+be very gentle with me at first, please."  She looked up at him with a
+flicker of a smile.
+
+"Not only at first, dear, but always," said Bowen gently as he rose and
+seated himself beside her.  "Patricia, when did you--care?" he blurted
+out the last word hurriedly.
+
+"I don't know," she replied dreamily.  "You see," she continued after a
+pause, "I've not been like other girls.  Do you know, Peter," she
+looked up at him shyly, "you're the first man who has ever kissed me,
+except my father.  Isn't it absurd?"
+
+"It's nothing of the sort," Bowen declared, tilting up her chin and
+gazing down into her eyes.  "But you haven't answered my question."
+
+"Well!" continued Patricia, speaking slowly, "when you sent me flowers
+and messengers and telegraph-boys and things I was angry, and then when
+you didn't I----" she paused.
+
+"Wanted them," he suggested.
+
+"U-m-m-m!" she nodded her head.  "I suppose so," she conceded.  "But,"
+she added with a sudden change of mood, "I shall always be dreadfully
+afraid of Peel.  He seems so perfect."
+
+Bowen laughed.  "I'll try and balance matters," he said.
+
+"But you haven't told me," said Patricia, "why you left me alone all at
+once.  Why did you?"  She looked up enquiringly at him.
+
+During the next half an hour Patricia slowly drew from Bowen the whole
+story of the plot engineered by Lady Tanagra.
+
+"But why," questioned Patricia, "were you going away if you knew
+that--that everything would come all right?"
+
+"I had given up hope, and I couldn't break my promise to Tan.  I
+convinced myself that you didn't care."
+
+Patricia held out her hand with a smile.  Bowen bent and kissed it.
+
+"I wonder what you are thinking of me?"  She looked up at him
+anxiously.  "I'm very much at your mercy now, Peter, aren't I?  You
+won't let me ever regret it, will you?"
+
+"Do you regret it?" he whispered, bending towards her, conscious of the
+fragrance of her hair.
+
+"It's such an unconditional surrender," she complained.  "All my pride
+is bruised and trampled underfoot.  You have me at such a disadvantage."
+
+"So long as I've got you I don't care," he laughed.
+
+"Peter," said Patricia after a few minutes of silence, "I want you to
+ring up Tanagra and Godfrey Elton and ask them to dine here this
+evening.  They must put off any other engagement.  Tell them I say so."
+
+"But can't we----?" began Bowen.
+
+"There, you are making me regret already," she said with a flash of her
+old vivacity.
+
+Bowen flew to the telephone.  By a lucky chance Elton was calling at
+Grosvenor Square, and Bowen was able to get them both with one call.
+He was a little disappointed, however, at not having Patricia to
+himself that evening.
+
+"When shall we get married?" Bowen asked eagerly, as Patricia rose and
+announced that she must go and repair damages to her face and garments.
+
+"I will tell you after dinner," she said as she walked towards the door.
+
+
+II
+
+"It is only the impecunious who are constrained to be modest," remarked
+Elton as the four sat smoking in Bowen's room after dinner.
+
+"Is that an apology, or merely a statement of fact?" asked Lady Tanagra.
+
+"I think," remarked Patricia quietly, "that it is an apology."
+
+Elton looked across at her with one of those quick movements of his
+eyes that showed how alert his mind was, in spite of the languid ease
+of his manner.
+
+"And now," continued Patricia, "I have something very important to say
+to you all."
+
+"Oh!" groaned Lady Tanagra, "spare me from the self-importance of the
+newly-engaged girl."
+
+"It has come to my knowledge, Tanagra," proceeded Patricia, "that you
+and Mr. Elton did deliberately and wittingly conspire together against
+my peace of mind and happiness.  There!" she added, "that's almost
+legal in its ambiguity, isn't it?"
+
+Lady Tanagra and Elton exchanged glances.
+
+"What do you mean?" demanded Lady Tanagra gaily.
+
+Patricia explained that she had extracted from Bowen the whole story.
+Lady Tanagra looked reproachfully at her brother.  Then turning to
+Patricia she said with unwonted seriousness:
+
+"I saw that was the only way to--to--well get you for a sister-in-law
+and," she paused a moment uncertainly.  "I knew you were the only girl
+for that silly old thing there, who was blundering up the whole
+business."
+
+"Your mania for interfering in other people's affairs will be your
+ruin, Tanagra," said Patricia as she turned to Elton, her look clearly
+enquiring if he had any excuse to offer.
+
+"The old Garden of Eden answer," he said.  "A woman tempted me."
+
+"Then we will apply the old Garden of Eden punishment," announced
+Patricia.
+
+Elton, who was the first to grasp her meaning, looked anxiously at Lady
+Tanagra, who with knitted brows was endeavouring to penetrate to
+Patricia's meaning.  Bowen was obviously at sea.  Suddenly Lady
+Tanagra's face flamed and her eyes dropped.  Elton stroked the back of
+his head, a habit he had when preoccupied--he was never nervous.
+
+"You two," continued Patricia, now thoroughly enjoying herself, "have
+precipitated yourselves into my most private affairs, and in return I
+am going to take a hand in yours.  Peter has asked me when I will marry
+him.  I said I would tell him after dinner this evening."
+
+Bowen looked across at her eagerly, Elton lit another cigarette, Lady
+Tanagra toyed nervously with her amber cigarette-holder.
+
+"I will marry Peter," announced Patricia, "when you, Tanagra," she
+paused slightly, "marry Godfrey Elton."
+
+Lady Tanagra looked up with a startled cry.  Her eyes were wide with
+something that seemed almost fear, then without warning she turned and
+buried her head in a cushion and burst into uncontrollable sobbing.
+
+Bowen started up.  With a swift movement Patricia went over to his side
+and, before he knew what was happening, he was in the corridor
+stuttering his astonishment to Patricia.
+
+For an hour the two sat in the lounge below, talking and listening to
+the band.  Patricia explained to Bowen how from the first she had known
+that Elton and Tanagra were in love.
+
+"But we've known him all our lives!" expostulated Bowen.
+
+"The very thing that blinded you all to a most obvious fact."
+
+"But why didn't he----?" began Bowen.
+
+"Because of her money," explained Patricia.  "Anyhow," she continued
+gaily, "I had lost my own tail, and I wasn't going to see Tanagra
+wagging hers before my eyes.  Now let's go up and see what has
+happened."
+
+Just as Bowen's hand was on the handle of the sitting-room door,
+Patricia cried out that she had dropped a ring.  When they entered the
+room Elton and Lady Tanagra were standing facing the door.  One glance
+at their faces, told Patricia all she wanted to know.  Without a word
+Elton came forward and bending low, kissed her hand.  There was
+something so touching in his act of deference that Patricia felt her
+throat contract.
+
+She went across to Lady Tanagra and put her arm round her.
+
+"You darling!" whispered Lady Tanagra.  "How clever of you to know."
+
+"I knew the first time I saw you together," whispered Patricia.
+
+Lady Tanagra hugged her.
+
+"And now we must all run round to Grosvenor Square.  Poor Mother--what
+a surprise for her!"
+
+
+III
+
+Elton's medical board took a more serious view of his state of health
+than was anticipated, and he was temporarily given an appointment in
+the Intelligence Department.  Bowen's application to be allowed to
+rejoin his regiment was refused, and thus the way was cleared for the
+double wedding that took place at St. Margaret's, Westminster.
+
+Patricia was given away by the Duke of Gayton.  Lady Peggy declared
+that it would rank as the most heroic act he had ever performed.  Mr.
+Triggs reached the highest sartorial pinnacle of his career in a light
+grey, almost white frock-coated suit with a high hat to match, a white
+waistcoat, and a white satin tie.  As Elton expressed it, he looked
+like a musical-comedy conception of a bookmaker turned philanthropist.
+
+Galvin House was there in force.  Even Gustave obtained an hour off
+and, with a large white rose in his button-hole, beamed on everyone and
+everything with the utmost impartiality.  Miss Brent, like Achilles,
+sulked in her tent.
+
+"The only two men I ever loved," wailed Lady Peggy to a friend, "and
+both gone at one shot."
+
+"She's a lucky girl," said an old dowager, "and only a secretary."
+
+"Some girl.  What!" muttered an embryo field-marshal to a one-pip
+strategist in the uniform of the Irish Guards, who concurred with an
+emphatic, "Lucky devil!"
+
+At Galvin House for the rest of the chapter they talked, dreamed and
+lived the Bowen-Brent marriage.  It was the one ineffaceable sunspot in
+the greyness of their lives.
+
+
+
+
+HERBERT JENKINS'
+
+SHILLING LIBRARY
+
+
+  BINDLE                                 HERBERT JENKINS
+  WITHOUT MERCY                          JOHN GOODWIN
+  PICCADILLY JIM                         P. G. WODEHOUSE
+  THE FRINGE OF THE DESERT               R. S. MACNAMARA
+  THE CHARING CROSS MYSTERY              J. S. FLETCHER
+  THE MAN WITH THE CLUBFOOT              VALENTINE WILLIAMS
+  ALF'S BUTTON                           W. A. DARLINGTON
+  HIDDEN FIRES                           MRS. PATRICK MACGILL
+  THE LUCK OF THE VAILS                  E. F. BENSON
+  THE WHISKERED FOOTMAN                  EDGAR JEPSON
+  THE DIAMOND CROSS MYSTERY              CHESTER K. S. STEELE
+  THE MYSTERY OF THE SCENTED DEATH       ROY VICKERS
+  ANTHONY TRENT, MASTER CRIMINAL         WYNDHAM MARTYN
+  THE MARKENMORE MYSTERY                 J. S. FLETCHER
+  A DAUGHTER IN REVOLT                   JOHN GOODWIN
+  THE BARTERED BRIDE                     MRS. PATRICK MACGILL
+  A DAMSEL IN DISTRESS                   P. G. WODEHOUSE
+  HIS OTHER WIFE                         ROY VICKERS
+  THE COMPULSORY WIFE                    JOHN GLYDER
+  THE WINNING CLUE                       JAMES HAY, Jun.
+  PATRICIA BRENT, SPINSTER               HERBERT JENKINS
+  THE SECRET OF THE SILVER CAR           WYNDHAM MARTYN
+  ISAACS                                 JOSEPH GEE
+  PLAYING WITH SOULS                     COUNTESS DE CHAMBRUN
+  THE MYSTERIOUS CHINAMAN                J. S. FLETCHER
+  THE FLAME OF LIFE                      MRS. PATRICK MACGILL
+  BLACKMAIL                              JOHN GOODWIN
+  THAT RED-HEADED GIRL                   LOUISE HEILGERS
+  MOLESKIN JOE                           PATRICK MACGILL
+  SALLY ON THE ROCKS                     WINIFRED BOGGS
+  THE UNLIGHTED HOUSE                    JAMES HAY, Jun.
+  THE EDGE OF THE WORLD                  EDITH BLINN
+
+
+
+3 YORK STREET   ST. JAMES'S   LONDON S.W.1
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Patricia Brent, Spinster, by Herbert Jenkins
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