At this moment Bruce decided it was time to find the book, and suddenly sprang, like a middle-aged fawn, at the writing-table, seizing a volume triumphantly. 'There it is--the whole time!' he said, 'staring at you while you are helplessly looking for it. Oh, Edith, Edith!' he laughed amiably. 'How like a woman that is! And the very book a few inches from your hand! Well, well, never mind; it's found at last. I hope, dear, in the future you will be more careful. We'll say no more about it now.' Edith didn't point out to Bruce that the book was a novel; that it was blue; that it belonged to the library, was French, and that it was still suitable for the children. 'Well, well,' he said, sitting down with the book, which he had never wanted at all, and had never even thought of when he came to the room first, 'well, well, here it is! And now for the point I was going to tell you when I came in.' 'Shall we have tea, dear?' said Edith. 'Tea? Oh, surely not. It's only just four. I don't think it's good for the servants having tea half-an-hour earlier than usual. It's a little thing--yes, I know that, but I don't believe in it. I like punctuality, regularity--oh, well, of course, dear, if you wish it.' 'No, I don't at all! I thought you might.' 'Oh no. I like punctuality, er--and, as a matter of fact, I had tea at the club.' Laughing, Edith rang the bell. Bruce lighted a cigarette, first, with his usual courtesy, asking her permission. 'I'll tell you about _that_ when Woodhouse has gone,' he said mysteriously. 'Oh, can't you tell me anything about it now? I wouldn't have ordered tea if I'd known that!' He enjoyed keeping her waiting, and was delighted at her interest. He would have made it last longer, but was unable to bear his own suspense; so he said: 'Before I say any more, tell me: where is Madame Frabelle?' CHAPTER III 'Madame Frabelle's in her own room. She stays there a good deal, you know. I fancy she does it out of tactfulness.' Edith spoke thoughtfully. 'What does she do there?' Bruce asked with low-toned curiosity, as he stood up and looked in the glass. 'She says she goes there to read. She thinks it bores people to see a visitor sitting reading about the house; she says it makes them get tired of the sight of her.' 'But she can't be reading all those hours, surely?' and Bruce sat down, satisfied with his appearance. 'One would think not. I used to think she was probably lying on the sofa with cold cream on her face, or something of that sort. But she doesn't. Once I went in,' Edith smiled, 'and found her doing Swedish exercises.' 'Good heavens! What a wonderful woman she is! Do you mean to say she's learning Swedish, as well as all the other languages she knows?' 'No, no. I mean physical exercises. But go on, Bruce. I'm getting so impatient.' Bruce settled himself down comfortably, blew a ring of smoke, and then began slowly: 'I never dreamt, Edith--'