"No, really, I haven't been here very long," he replied to her apology, "and you, of all women, are worth waiting for." "You are a dear. I don't believe you, but still you are a dear. I'm so sick of life today, Ronnie--don't ask me why. Amuse me." "How is the doctor?" he queried, as they were shown into their seats. "He is going to Paris tonight with Mr. Steppe," she said. "I'm rather glad. Two or three days abroad will do him a lot of good. There aren't many people here this afternoon, Ronnie." "Most of the swells are at Ascot," he explained, "the night seance is crowded. Gone to Paris, eh?" The news made him thoughtful. She drove him back to the house to tea. Dr. Merville was out and was not returning to dinner. The maid said he had left a letter in his study. Beryl found it to be a note saying he was unlikely to see her before he went; his bag would be called for, he added. "My hard-hearted parent has gone without saying good-bye," she said. "Take me out to dinner, Ronnie. After, I would like to see a revue. I feel un-intellectual today; I'm in the mood when I want to see people with red noses and baggy trousers. And I want to be in a box. I love boxes, since--" Ronald Morelle walked home from Park Crescent stopping at a messenger office to scribble a note. "It is at a drug store in Knightsbridge," he said. "I want the boy to give it to the young lady in the pay desk. Perhaps he had better make a purchase--a cake of soap, if that is the boy," he smiled upon the diminutive messenger, "and let him hand the letter to the lady when he puts in his bill." He came to the flat to find François laying out his dress-clothes. "Finish what you are doing and go home. I shall not want you this evening," he said. "Stay--have a bottle put on ice. You can lay the small table. You might have bought some flowers. I hate flowers, but--get some. You can throw them away tomorrow." "Yes, m'sieur," said his imperturbable man, "for how many shall I lay supper?" "For three," answered Ronnie. It was a convention that he invariably entertained two guests, but François had never had to wash more than two used glasses. VI Beryl was still in the drawing-room and the tea table had not been cleared when Ambrose Sault came for the doctor's bag. She heard the sound of his voice in the hall and came to the head of the stairs. "Is that you, Mr. Sault? Won't you come up for a moment?" The doctor had telephoned to Moropulos, he explained, asking him to take the grip to his club. She gathered that it was usual for Ambrose to carry out these little commissions. "How is Miss Colebrook?--has she forgiven me for acting the part of district visitor? She is a nice girl and her hair is such a wonderful color." "The osteopath says she will get well," replied Ambrose simply, "and when I went in to see her this morning she told me she really thought that she felt better already. She has the heart of a lion, Miss Merville."