"Cheer up, mate," said Bill. "What's the matter now? Still off it because the ole lady told you off? You've stopped _'er_ mouth, any'ow." "Well, an' even if I 'ave, 'ow much better are we then? We might sit 'ere for a year, an' never get nearer doin' anything than we are now. 'Ow are we goin' to get to know a toff like ole Sir FitzPeter, eh? 'Ow can we.... 'Ullo, Farr, what is it now?" "Lord, there standeth at thy door one desiring entrance; and verily he bringeth with him a maiden possessing the rarest beauty, so that if her mind and attainments be but of a piece with her fairness of face, not less than ten thousand pieces of gold would be her price." Alf gaped at him. "I don't know what the 'ell you think you're talkin' about, Farr," he said at length. "But bring 'ooever it is along 'ere." Mustapha bowed and retreated. "If there's a lady in the case," said Bill, "Lucy 'ad better cut away. 'Ere! skedaddle, Lucy--quick! You ain't dressed for company." Lucy departed disconsolately for the house, quite unable to understand why she was thus dismissed. In her lord's honor she had put on her most striking finery. She had touched up her eyes with kohl, her cheeks with carmine and her finger-tips with henna. She was comfortably conscious of looking her best. Why, then, was she dismissed the Presence? "'Ere," called Bill after her, "not that way; you'll run right into 'em.... Lumme, 'ere they come.... Why, Alf--it's 'er--your girl ... an'--an' Lootenant Allen with 'er. 'E'd know me for sure. I'm off." And while Isobel and Allen were occupied in gazing speechlessly after Lucy's disappearing form, Bill beat a panic-stricken and precipitate retreat into the rose-garden. Alf, unnerved almost as much by the unlooked-for good fortune which brought Isobel to him as by the embarrassment of having to face his old platoon-commander, turned to receive his visitors. "I hope you will excuse us, Mr...." "Wentworth," supplied Alf. He was getting used to his new name now. "Mr. Wentworth, for bursting in upon you in this way. I am Miss FitzPeter, and this is Mr. Allen." Alf, quaking at the knees, shook hands with his late commander. He felt, in spite of his clean-shaved upper lip, that nothing could prevent his detection now; but Allen gave no sign of recognition. Indeed, he hardly looked at Mr. Wentworth's face at all in his delighted examination of his clothes. Isobel, struggling with herself, went straight to the point. Only by doing this, she felt, could she stifle the demon of laughter within her; and if she chanced to catch Allen's eye nothing could save her. "I'm afraid I've come on business, Mr. Wentworth. Worse than that, on begging business. I'm collecting for a Red Cross hospital which is being started at Anston. It's such a good object and they do need funds so badly--and I wondered--would you be so kind--anything will do...."