"Then what are you doing here? This is no place for a girl who isn't to be my wife!" and Barry caressed with his fingertips the pink cheek which was all of the flower-face that showed from the collar of his tweed jacket. "I oughtn't to be here--but--but I love you, Barry, I do--I do!" "Of course you do, my blessed infant. Now, as we didn't get along very well with our marriage settlement for a topic, let's try again. Beatrice wants to go away from here. Do you want her to?" "Oh, no! Don't let her go. I'd be lost without her. I want to go, you know, but I can't, I suppose. Beg her to stay as long as I do,--won't you, dear?" The pleading in the blue eyes was so tender and sweet that Barry kissed them both before replying. "I will, darling. I'll beg anybody in the world for anything you want, if I have to become a professional mendicant. Now, brace up, Sweetheart, for I want to talk to you about lots of things, and how can I, if you burst into tears at every new subject I bring up?" "I'm upset to-day, Barry mine. Don't let's talk. Just wander around the gardens." "Wander it is," and Barry started off obediently, still with his arm round her. "Unhand me, villain," she said, trying to speak gaily. But it was impossible, and the scarlet lips trembled into a curve that broke Barry's heart for its sadness. He gathered her to himself. "Dear heart, you are all unstrung. Go to your room for a time, don't you want to? Let Beatrice look after you,--she's kindness itself." "Indeed she is. I'll do that. And I'll come back, Barry, a new woman." "For heaven's sake, don't do that! You'd make a fine militant suffragist!" "No, not that. But a sensible, commonplace girl, who can talk without crying." "Commonplace isn't exactly the word I'd choose to describe you, you wonder-thing! But run away and powder your nose, it needs it. Ha, I thought that would stir you up!" as Natalie pouted. "Run along, and I'll see you at dinner time. And this evening we'll have our chat." But that evening Orienta came. Joyce had refused to listen to any one's objections and had made the appointment with the clairvoyant to come for a preliminary conference whether she gave them a séance or not. Barry and Natalie refused at first to meet the visitor, but Joyce persuaded them to see her, so that they might argue intelligently for or against her. Beatrice consented to be present, for Joyce had begged it as a special favour. And so, when Blake ushered the stranger into the Reception Room she was greeted pleasantly by all the members of the household. Nor was this perfunctory, for the charm of the guest was manifest from the first. At her entrance, at the first sound of her low, silvery voice, each hearer was thrilled as by an unexpected bit of music.