‘That really is the truth.’ Taking a folding-book from his breast, Gaston stored away his sketch carefully between its leaves. ‘You must excuse me, Mrs. Thorne. An idea struck me just now, suggested by a look I surprised on the face of Miss Verschoyle, and I hastened forthwith to make my memorandum. Dinah to enact hostess for the subalterns on Wednesday, do you say? Surely not. I could almost wish that it were to be so. But my wife, as you know, keeps to her own quiet way of life.’ ‘We have Lord Rex Basire’s word for it. According to Lord Rex, Mrs. Arbuthnot has most decidedly accepted their invitation.’ ‘Dinah does not mean to go. Lord Rex deceives himself.’ Gaston Arbuthnot spoke with sincerity. He had told Geoffrey, as a jest, that Dinah was turning over a new leaf, beginning to discover, poor girl, that there might be other music in the spheres besides that of the eternal domestic duo without accompaniment. Of Dinah’s profoundly changed mood, her resolve of gaining wider views by frequenting a world which as yet she knew not, he was ignorant. Linda Thorne watched him sceptically. ‘Pray do not dash my hopes. I trust and I believe that Mrs. Arbuthnot will play hostess to us all next Wednesday. Come!’ she added, with rather forced playfulness. ‘Will you make me a bet about it? I will give you any amount of odds you like in Jouvin’s best.’ ‘It is against my principles to bet on a certainty, Mrs. Thorne. I am as certain that Dinah has not pledged herself for Wednesday’s picnic as that I have pledged myself to dine with Dr. and Mrs. Thorne this evening.’ But, in spite of his assured voice, a shade of restlessness was to be traced in Gaston Arbuthnot’s manner. He would not remain, as it had become his habit to do, at The Bungalow, singing, or drawing, or chatting away the two hours between afternoon tea and dinner, in Linda’s society. Even Rahnee (to Gaston’s mind the first attraction in the house) must forego her usual game of hide-and-seek with ‘Missy ’Butnot.’ Even Rahnee threw her thin, bangled arms round her playmate’s neck in vain. Frankly, so, at last, he was brought, to make confession, he had forgotten to tell Dinah of his engagement, must hurry back, forthwith, to Miller’s Hotel to set Dinah’s heart at rest. Unnecessary? ‘Ah, Mrs. Thorne,’ and as he spoke Gaston’s eyes looked straight into the lady’s soul, ‘that question of necessity just depends upon the state of one’s domestic legislation. Regarding these small matters, my wife and I, fortunately for ourselves, are in our honeymoon stage still.’ This was always Gaston’s tone in speaking of Dinah at The Bungalow. He painted truth in truth’s brightest colours whenever he afforded Linda Thorne a glimpse of his own household happiness. CHAPTER XIX GASTON ARBUTHNOT’S PHILOSOPHY