As they walked on, Quentin scarcely took his eyes from Miss Garrison's face. He was wearing down the surprise that the sweetheart of his boyhood had inspired, by deliberately seeking flaws in her beauty, her figure, her manner. After a time he felt her more wonderful than ever. Lord Bob joined the party, and Quentin stopped a second to speak to him. As he did so Prince Ugo was at Miss Garrison's side in an instant. “So she is the girl that damned Italian is to elevate?” said Mr. Quentin to himself. “By George, it's a shame!” He did not see Lord Bob and his wife exchange a quick smile of significance. As they all reached the corner, Quentin asked: “Are you in London for long, Dorothy?” Lady Frances thought his tone a trifle eager. “For ten days or so. Will you come to see me?” Their eyes met and he felt certain that the invitation was sincerely given. “Lady Marnham is having some people in to-morrow afternoon. Perhaps you'll come then,” she added, and Phil looked crestfallen. “I'll come,” he said. “I want to tell you the story of my past life. You didn't know I'd been prime minister of a South American republic, did you?” She nodded and they separated. Prince Ugo heard the last words of the American, and a small, clear line appeared for an instant between his black eyebrows. Lady Frances solemnly and secretively shook her finger at Quentin, and he laughed with the disdain of one who understands and denies without the use of words. Lord Bob had wanted to kick him when he mentioned South America, but he said nothing. Quentin was in wonderful spirits all the way home. VI. DOROTHY GARRISON Quentin was driving with Lady Saxondale to the home of Miss Garrison's hostess. Phil's fair, calculating companion said to herself that she had never seen a handsomer fellow than this stalwart American. There was about him that clean, strong, sweet look of the absolutely healthy man, the man who has buffeted the world and not been buffeted by the world. He was frank, bright, straightforward, and there was that always-to-be-feared yet ever-to-be-desired gleam of mastery in his eye. It may have been sometimes a wicked mastery, and more than one woman who admired him because she could not help herself had said, “There is a devil in his eyes.” They found Lady Marnham's reception hall full of guests, few of whom Quentin had seen before. He was relieved to find that the prince was not present, and he made his way to Dorothy's side, with Lady Frances, coolly dropping into the chair which a young captain had momentarily abandoned. Lady Frances sat beside Miss Garrison on the divan. “I am so glad you kept your promise, Phil, and came. It seems good to see you after all these years. You bring back the dear days at home,” said Dorothy, delight in her voice. “From that I judge you sometimes long for them,” he said, simply. To Lady Frances it sounded daring.