For as Sydney was murmuring conventional congratulations I had caught sight of the look in his eyes. They are handsome eyes, deep and brown and soft, like the eyes of some spaniels; and just then they looked so bitterly hurt that I felt as if I had been cruel to some nice dog or some helpless child. Perhaps Sydney cared more than I had ever imagined. I felt quite miserable when at last the purring farewells and the “so very glad, dear childs” were left behind us, and we passed out of the restaurant, through the wheeling glass doors into the Haymarket once more. As we walked up to Piccadilly Circus I turned to the Governor with the apologies I felt I owed him. “I’m so very sorry, Mr. Waters! There seemed nothing else to be done. Those people—they were old friends of my father’s; they would have thought it so odd for me to be lunching alone with you.” “Oh, quite so, quite so!” put in the Governor, matter-of-fact and reassuring. “I quite realized the situation.” Did he? Not all of it! Poor Sydney! I have never felt nearer the possibility of falling in love with Sydney in my life. But the Governor was still speaking. “In fact, I was not at all sorry that the occasion happened to come up. It means, of course, that the announcement will have to be made rather earlier.” “Oh, yes,” I agreed, with the usual sinking of the heart. We had reached the Circus now, and before I knew what he was going to do, Mr. Waters had stepped quickly across to those sailor-hatted, shawled flower-women, whose baskets make such a gorgeous splash of colour against the stone background of the fountain. Back he came with a cluster of great red, fragrant carnations, which he handed to me. “Oh, but really you should not have——” I was beginning, when I realized that this also was part of the business—that never had flowers been offered from man to maid under quite such unromantic circumstances before, and that I had better take Still Waters’ gift as ostentatiously as I could. I tucked the sweet crimson blooms into the breast of my blue serge coat. As we whizzed citywards in a taxi, the Governor spoke again. “Now, Miss Trant, there is another suggestion I have to make to you,” he began. “To begin with, if I may say so, I like the way you dress.” Crisp, concise, business-like syllables; no girl could have interpreted them into a _compliment_!