An only child, rich and of great beauty, Miss Willow might well have been spoiled. Her character, however, was proof against such corruption. She was spirited, liked her own way, but she was not headstrong. Upon occasion she would take the bit in her teeth, but that was as much out of play as anything else. There was no vice in her. Her charm was swift: all she did she did eagerly: if she was careless, hers was a careless age. Her admirable figure was always admirably dressed, her little feet perfectly shod. Some men swore by her eyes, which were grey, others by her exquisite mouth; but all were most proud of her acquaintance and adored her company. Hubert Challenger was a good-looking man. He had a fine record, a keen sense of humour, and a way of getting where he wanted to go at once more effectually and with less apparent effort than any man about town. His engagement, therefore, to Julia was good for his soul. He was tall, fair, keen-eyed, a beautiful horseman and a sound judge of men. Although a man of means, he was never idle: his small estate in the country was excellently administered: he was his own bailiff. He was generous, did all he had to do handsomely, was naturally amiable, could be most resolute—if occasion arose. His pleasant personality had much to answer for. Whenever he made an acquaintance, Challenger made a friend. “Good lord!” cried Julia suddenly, leaping to her feet. “We’ve never been to see South Street.” Her _fiancé_ started guiltily. “Nor—nor we have,” he stammered. With a withering glance, Julia sped to the mantelpiece and began in feverish haste to powder her nose. Hubert stared at his watch. “Don’t you think it’s a bit late, dear?” “Why?” demanded Julia over her shoulder. “We said ‘before six.’” “Did—did we?” “You know we did,” said Julia, seizing her hat. Challenger smothered a groan. “Let’s have tea first,” he suggested. “Then it would be too late, wouldn’t it? Hubert, you make me tired.” Challenger laughed wildly. “Supposing,” he said shakily, “supposing I said I was whacked—whacked to the blinkin’ wide, lame, over at the knees an’ ripe for palsy. Whose fault would that be?” “Come on,” said Julia shortly. “We can pick up a taxi on the way.” “Just let me have the drink,” pleaded Challenger. “Not all of it. Just——” “When we get back,” said Julia, opening the door. “I’m going without my tea.” With a frightful look, Hubert rose from the sofa and followed his lady out. . . . Five minutes later the two were in South Street.