Mr. Carmyle, puffing smoke, obediently withdrew to the other side of a clump of sooty rhododendrons. Connie turned eagerly to Dicky. Her face was flushed and eager, like a child’s. "Dicky," she whispered earnestly, "_see_ her! _See_ her! See her alone! Take her in your arms and tell her that you will never, never, never let her go! She will struggle and try to break away; but hold on. Hold on tight! Go on telling her that you love her and will never leave her. When she sees that you mean it, she will give in. I know. I’m a woman, and I know!" Connie squeezed Dicky’s arm violently. "I _know_!" she repeated.... "You can come back now, Bill dear." "Nice goings-on, I don’t think," observed Mr. Carmyle severely, reappearing round the rhododendron. "Shouting all over the garden--what?" But the two conspirators, still in the clouds together, took no notice of him. Instead, Connie rose to her feet and began to walk towards the nearest gate. The two men followed. "Connie, how am I going to do it?" asked Dicky deferentially. "I have a plan," replied Connie, with portentous solemnity. She was launched on an enterprise after her own heart. "Listen! Have you a portmanteau?" "Yes, at my rooms." "Well, go there and pack it." "Why?" asked Dicky in a dazed voice. Mrs. Carmyle replied by quoting a famous and oracular phrase which had lately fallen from the lips of a prominent statesman, and the party reached the railings. "Hallo, there’s a taxi at the Welwyns’ door," said Carmyle. "I wonder--oh, Lord!" He fell hastily to the rear, his knees knocking together. Two figures were ascending the steps of the house. One was majestic and purposeful; the other small and reluctant. The front door opened and closed upon them. "My mother--already!" exclaimed Dicky in dismay. That burned child, William Carmyle, broke into a gentle perspiration. "Never mind," said Connie reassuringly. "She was bound to come. She can’t do any harm." "Supposing she gets Tilly to agree never to see me again?" said Dicky feverishly. "Supposing she insults her with money?" He ground his teeth, and Carmyle groaned sympathetically. Connie patted his arm soothingly. "The last word is the only thing that matters in this case," she said with great confidence; "and you are going to have that, Dicky, my friend. Now, run away and pack your portmanteau. Then come and lunch with us at Prince’s. I must fly. I have an appointment with a gentleman at Russell Square Tube Station at twelve-thirty. It is after that now." Dicky glanced at Bill Carmyle for an explanation of this mysterious assignation, but that gentleman merely shook his head in a bewildered fashion. "Don’t ask me, old man," he said. "Who is the gentleman, Connie?" Dicky enquired. "An admirer of mine," replied Mrs. Carmyle, with a gratified smile. "I met him in the train this morning." "For the first time?"