Mrs. Rossiter was used to unexpected guests at lunch. People on terms of familiarity dropped in, or the Professor detained some colleague or pupil and made him sit down to the meal which was always prepared and seated for four. Therefore she was not particularly taken aback when her husband appeared at five minutes to one in the little drawing-room and after requesting that the macaw and the cockatoo might be removed for the nonce to a back room--as they made sustained conversation impossible, announced that he expected momently--ah! there was the bell--two persons whose acquaintance he was sure Linda would like to make. One was Captain Frank Gardner, who owned a big ranch in Rhodesia, and--er--the other--oh no! no relation--was Miss Warren.... "What, one of the Warrens of Huddersfield? Well, I never! And where did you pick her up? Strange she shouldn't have written to me she was coming up to town! I could--" "No, this is a Miss Vivien Warren--" "Vivien? How curious, why that is the name of the Adams's little girl--" "A Miss Vivien Warren," went on Rossiter patiently--"a well-known Suffragist who--" "Oh Michael! _Not_ a Suffragette!" wailed Mrs. Rossiter, imagining vitriol was about to be thrown over the surviving pug and damage done generally to the furniture--But at this moment the butler announced: "Captain Frank Gardner and Miss Warren." Gardner was well enough, a lean soldierly-looking man, brown with the African sun, with pleasant twinkling blue eyes, a thick moustache and curly hair, just a little thin on the top. His face was rather scarred with African adventure and did not show much special trace of his last night's tussle with the police. There was a cut at the back of his head where he had fallen on the kerb stone but that was neatly plastered, and you do not turn your back much on a hostess, at any rate on first introduction. But Vivie had obviously been in the wars. She had--frankly--a black eye, a cut and swollen lip, and her ordinarily well-shaped nose was a trifle swollen and reddened. But her eyes likewise were twinkling, though the bruised one was bloodshot. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Rossiter, to be introduced to you like this. I don't know _what_ you will think of me. It's the first time I've been in a really bad row.... We were trying to get to the House of Commons, but the police interfered and gave us the full privileges of a man as regards their fists. Captain Gardner here--who is an old friend of mine--intervened, or I'm afraid I shouldn't have got off as cheaply as I did. And your husband kindly came to the police court to testify to our good character, and then invited us to lunch." _Mrs. Rossiter_: "Why how your voice reminds me of some one who used to come here a good deal at one time--a Mr. David Williams. I suppose he isn't any relation?"