The pair moved off in single file. Though the office was new to him, the dignity of Mason's demeanour was irreproachable. It was clear that the blood of flunkeys was in his veins. As a matter of fact, one hundred years before, his grandfather had done much escort duty, with a band on his hat and a cane in his hand. Though Mason did not know it, the manner had been bred in his bone. "'Ere's a lady wants yer." This was quite true. Miss French had not put it so bluntly, but it was not her fault that the messenger she had selected knew a footman when he saw one. Major Anthony Lyveden thanked his informant with a smile. Had it been Caliban himself that had growled the message, the smile would have been as ready. Such a summons lost nothing in the telling. George received the intimation that his colleague would be back in a minute apathetically. He was yet in some dudgeon. Beyond heaving a sigh charged with the resignation of a martyr who remembers that he has left his gloves in the torture-chamber, he evinced no interest at all. Anthony crossed the turf to where Miss French sat smiling in a brown laudaulette, and touched his hat. Appearances had to be kept up. Valerie inclined her head gravely enough, but the look with which she honoured his action was not of this world. Anthony felt astoundingly rich. "How are you?" he asked anxiously. "Perfectly all right." "Sure?" Valerie nodded, smiling. "I wasn't even tired the next day," she said. "Were your arms very stiff?" "Only for a day or two." "And Patch?" "As right as rain." "Will you be free on Sunday?" said Valerie. "From two o'clock on." "Will you come to Bell Hammer?" "I will," said Anthony. "I'll come to meet you with the two-seater. To-morrow I'm going away. Aunt Harriet has to go to London. Have--have you been back ... since?" "To your window?" "To our window," said Valerie. Anthony nodded. "Yes," he said quietly. "I--I can't keep away." It was true. The place fascinated him. Tremendous happenings had made it a shrine. Already worshipful as Valerie's bower, the ledge was freshly consecrate to two most excellent saints--Love Confessed and Life Triumphant. "I thought you had," said Valerie. "I saw your footsteps. And--oh, please don't go so close to the edge, Anthony. Promise me you won't. It--it frightens me so." Love lent the words an earnestness which there was no mistaking. My lady leaned forward, with her hand gripping the woodwork. There was a strained, pleading look upon the beautiful face, the proud lips humbling themselves, the glorious eyes beggars--Royalty upon its knees. Quite naturally, Anthony's heart answered her. "I promise, sweet," he said. The vocative transfigured the lady. Anthony found himself mirrored in two dew-burning stars. To deck her favourite, Nature had robbed the firmament. To see such larceny, it is not surprising that the round world stood still.... With a supreme effort Anthony pulled himself together.