"I'm sure Father thinks he ought to come and chaperone us. Isn't he sweet?" Presently the Rector appeared looking very tall in the low doorway. He nodded cheerfully to Guy: "Seen Vartani? You know, he's that pale blue fellow from Nazareth. Very often he's a washy lilac, but this is genuinely blue." "No, I don't think I noticed it--him, I mean," said Guy apologetically. "Oh, Father, of course he didn't! It's a tiny iris," she explained to Guy, "and Father puts in new roots every year...." "Bulbs, my dear, bulbs," corrected Mr. Grey. "It's one of the Histrio lot." "Well, bulbs. And every year one flower comes out in the middle of the winter rain and lasts about ten minutes, and then all the summer Birdwood and Father grub about looking for the bulb, which they never find, and then Father gets six new ones." They talked on, the three of them, about flowery subjects while the Rector drank his tea from the mug without a word of comment on the inscription. Then he went off to write a letter, and Guy with a regretful glance at the room supposed he ought to go. "Oh, no, stay a little while," said Pauline. "Look, it's raining again." It was only a shower through which the declining sun was lancing silver rays. As they watched it from the window without speaking, Pauline wondered if she ought to have given so frank an invitation to stay longer. Would Margaret have frowned? And how odd Guy was this afternoon. Why did he keep looking at her so intently as if about to speak, and then turn away with a sigh and nothing said. "I do love this room," said Guy at last. "I love it too," Pauline agreed. "May I ask you something?" "Yes, of course." "You spoke to Margaret the other day about someone called Richard. Do you like him very much?" "Yes, of course. Only you mustn't ask me about him. Please don't. I've promised Margaret I wouldn't talk about him. Please, please, don't ask me any more." "But leaving Margaret out of it, do you like him ... well ... very much better than me, for instance?" Guy used himself for comparison with such an assumption of carelessness as might give the impression that only by accident did he mention himself instead of the leg of the table, or the kitten. "Oh, I couldn't tell you that. Because if I said I liked you even as much, I should feel disloyal to Richard, and he's the best friend I've got. Oh, do let's talk about something else. Please do, Mr. Hazlewood." "Oh, look here, I'm going," exclaimed Guy, and he went instantly.