‘I--I remembered there were no strawberries for breakfast,’ she stammered, determined upon not giving him fresh offence, ‘no roses to last us until to-morrow. Don’t you see,’ holding out her hands, which trembled a little, ‘I have been marketing?’ ‘Alone? But I need hardly ask the question. You always do your marketing alone.’ His skilfully marshalled questions perplexed her vaguely. She felt the same aching doubt which overcame her, once, on board the _Princess_, a doubt as to Gaston’s belief in her perfect truthfulness. ‘Yes, and no,’ she answered, a piteous deprecation in her tone. ‘Lord Rex Basire was in the market-place. His company was so wearisome that I could scarcely answer a civil word. Yet he followed me from stall to stall. A lord, it seems, will not be affronted as a gentleman would. I never shook him off till I turned the corner beneath the Arsenal gates.’ ‘From which point Lord Rex no doubt caught a glimpse of me,’ said Gaston with his unfathomable candour. ‘’Tis a good enough little creature in its way, although brainless! We must be tolerant of all men, Dinah. If one only frequented the society one loves best,’ he pursued, ‘I should certainly not be going out to breakfast at this moment.’ ‘Going out!’ ‘I saw de Gourmet at the bottom of the hill, and he invited me to eat red mullet with him thirty-five minutes later. You must admit, Dinah, that the temptation was strong? To this she made no answer. ‘For when de Gourmet talks of red mullet he implies a menu. (Our food in Alderney was barbarous.) Rougets en papillottes, accompanied by fine old Graves. Tartines de caviar. Poulet sauté--with Château Margaux, of ’58. A soufflé aux fraises. A glass of wonderful Tokai after one’s morsel of Stilton! Still,’ added Gaston, ‘if _you_ had met me on the pier I could never have said Yes--especially as I am obliged to dine at the Fort to-night.’ Again Dinah was mute. She rested her hand upon the garden railing beside which they stood. She kept the tears back, bravely, in their bed. ‘It is guest night at mess, and there will be a larger party than usual. My engagement dates, really, from a week ago. I made some idle promise, it seems, of giving the Maltshire youngsters a lesson in poker. By the bye,’ ran on Mr. Arbuthnot, with an air of spontaneous reminiscence, ‘I remember! Little Oscar Jones offered to put me up. Very lucky I thought of telling you.’ ‘You intend to be away till to-morrow? Is that your meaning, Gaston?’ ‘Till to-morrow, certainly. When can one get away from a mess-dinner before midnight! This time, however, you will not be disturbed, my love. Instead of being roused at an unearthly hour of the morning, you will have your rest unbroken. And you want it, Dinah. Do you know that you are losing your colour, that your eyes are beginning to look dark under the lower lid?’ ‘And your evening dress? When you breakfast with Colonel de Gourmet, I generally see nothing of you for the remainder of the day.’