She would not look at Charlie. She moved slowly forward, her eyes fixed on Calder, and bowed with a little set smile. Luckily people pay slight attention to one another's expressions on social occasions, or they must all have noticed her agitation. As it was, only Calder Wentworth looked curiously at her before he turned aside to shake hands with Uncle Van. Then she felt Charlie Merceron coining nearer, and, a second later, she heard his voice. "Is it possible that it's you?" he asked, in a low tone. Then she looked at him. His face was pale and his eyes eagerly straining to read what might be in hers. "Hush!" she whispered. "Yes. Hush! hush!" "But--but he told me your name was Glyn?" "Yes." "And he says you're engaged to him." Agatha clasped her hands, and Calder's voice broke in, between them: "Come along, Merceron, we're waiting for you." "They've got into antiquities already," smiled Mrs. Blunt. "You must come again, Mr. Merceron, and meet Miss Glyn. Mustn't he, Agatha?" Agatha threw one glance at him. "If he will," she said. Charlie pulled himself together, muttered something appropriate, and shuffled out tinder his uncle's wing. Mr. Vansittart was surprised to find him a trifle confused and awkward in society. Outside the house, Charlie ranged up beside Calder "Wentworth, leaving Uncle Van and Sutton together. "Well, what do you think of her?" asked Calder. Charlie gave no opinion. He asked just one question: "How long have you been engaged to her?" "How long? Oh, let's see. About--yes, just about a year. I never knew that there was a sort of connection between you and her--sort of relationship, you know. I ain't strong on the Peerage." "A sort of connection!" There was that in more senses than the one Calder had been told of by Uncle Van. There was a connection that poor Charlie thought Heaven itself had tied on those summer evenings by the Pool, which to strengthen and confirm forever he had sallied from his home, like a knight in search of his mistress the world over in olden days. And he found her--such as this girl must be! Stay! He did not know all yet. Perhaps she had been forced into a bond she hated. He knew that happened. Did not stories tell of it, and moralists declaim against it? This man--this creature, Calder Wentworth--was buying her with his money, forcing himself on her, brutally capturing her. Of course! How could he have doubted her? Charlie dropped Calder's arm as though it had been made of red-hot iron. "Hullo!" exclaimed that worthy fellow, unconscious of offence. Charlie stopped short. "I can't come," he said. "I--I've remembered an engagement;" and without more he turned away and shot out of sight round the nearest corner. "Well, I'm hanged!" said Calder Wentworth, and, with a puzzled frown, he joined his other friends. CHAPTER VIII THE MORAL OF IT Left alone with Mrs. Blunt, Agatha sank into the nearest chair.