As he looked a little embarrassed by this jaunty speech, she rattled on to relate the well-known anecdote of an absent-minded gentleman, who, having spilled some salt, instantly poured a glass of claret over it--thus transposing the usual remedy. With sundry excellent, and, to him, perfectly fresh chestnuts, she kept her victim thoroughly entertained--actually so interested, that he forgot to glance at the red-headed girl--or even at Mrs. Sutton--and refused two of the most toothsome _plats_. What a fortunate fellow he was, to have secured such a charming companion! By turns amusing, sympathetic, or serious; he had but to listen, to look into her eloquent dark eyes, admire her white teeth, and her delightful smile. Among other things, she told him how it had ever been the one dream of her life to go to India, and how she still devoured ravenously every book about India that came in her way. She drew him out cleverly about his regiment (his hobby), his chargers and polo-ponies, his tiger-shooting; and presently he found himself talking to the lady as if he had known her for years; they had discovered a mutual Indian friend--one Bobbie Travers, late of the 170th Bengal Lancers, who was Miss Barker’s own second cousin, and he--oh, lucky man--now commanded no less a regiment than Holland’s Horse. Here was a tie indeed! Bobbie proved not merely a link, but a _chain_, and it was almost in the nature of a shock when Mrs. Sutton gave the signal, and the two enthralled companions were compelled to relinquish an absorbing conversation. As soon as the men appeared in the drawing-room, Miss Barker made a significant movement of her hand, and as the enchanted veteran ventured to occupy the seat beside her, she began-- “I am longing for you to finish that story about the old sower, and the pariah dog--do, please, _do_ go on--you had just got to where he was lying on the orderly-room steps, when Maudie hustled us all upstairs”; and so conversation was resumed precisely where it had been interrupted. “Your experiences are so enthralling!” she remarked, as he took her coffee-cup. “I only wish my sister could hear them--you really _ought_ to write a book.” Colonel Doran looked at her doubtfully for a moment: then he laughed aloud. “Lady Barre is my only sister; I live with her,” she resumed. This was not a fact. Julia happened to be staying with her for a few days; but, as the Spanish proverb says, “there is no tax on lies.” “Will you come and have tea with us some afternoon?” “I--I----” He was about to refuse, but she suddenly looked up at him with an appeal in her eyes, and he said “Er--I shall be delighted.” “We live at two hundred and five, Grosvenor Street,--shall we say Tuesday at four o’clock?” “Thank you.” “You won’t forget, will you?” again looking up at him. “If you do, I shall feel so hurt and disappointed.”