Remorse gnawed at Jane’s vitals. She had never deceived William before. She kissed him with even more than her usual fondness when he left to catch the ten-forty-five. She waved to him till he was out of sight; then, bounding back into the house, leaped at the telephone and, after a series of conversations with the Marks-Morris Glue Factory, the Poor Pussy Home for Indigent Cats, and Messrs. Oakes, Oakes, and Parbury, dealers in fancy goods, at last found herself in communication with Rodney Spelvin. “Rodney?” she said, and held her breath, fearful at this breaking of a two years’ silence and yet loath to hear another strange voice say “Wadnumjerwant?” “Is that you, Rodney?” “Yes. Who is that?” “Mrs. Bates. Rodney, can you give me lunch at the Alcazar to-day at one?” “Can I!” Not even the fact that some unknown basso had got on the wire and was asking if that was Mr. Bootle could blur the enthusiasm in his voice. “I should say so!” “One o’clock, then,” said Jane. His enthusiastic response had relieved her. If by merely speaking she could stir him so, to bend him to her will when they met face to face would be pie. “One o’clock,” said Rodney. Jane hung up the receiver and went to her room to try on hats. * * * * * The impression came to Jane, when she entered the lobby of the restaurant and saw him waiting, that Rodney Spelvin looked somehow different from the Rodney she remembered. His handsome face had a deeper and more thoughtful expression, as if he had been through some ennobling experience. “Well, here I am,” she said, going to him and affecting a jauntiness which she did not feel. He looked at her, and there was in his eyes that unmistakable goggle which comes to men suddenly addressed in a public spot by women whom, to the best of their recollection, they do not know from Eve. “How are you?” he said. He seemed to pull himself together. “You’re looking splendid.” “You’re looking fine,” said Jane. “You’re looking awfully well,” said Rodney. “You’re looking awfully well,” said Jane. “You’re looking fine,” said Rodney. There was a pause. “You’ll excuse my glancing at my watch,” said Rodney. “I have an appointment to lunch with--er--somebody here, and it’s past the time.” “But you’re lunching with me,” said Jane, puzzled. “With you?” “Yes. I rang you up this morning.” Rodney gaped. “Was it you who ’phoned? I thought you said ‘Miss Bates.’” “No, Mrs. Bates.” “Mrs. Bates?” “Mrs. Bates.” “Of course. You’re Mrs. Bates.” “Had you forgotten me?” said Jane, in spite of herself a little piqued. “Forgotten you, dear lady! As if I could!” said Rodney, with a return of his old manner. “Well, shall we go in and have lunch?” “All right,” said Jane.