At present the only people who knew of her prank and guessed or knew her purpose were Honoria and Bertie Adams. Honoria! what a noble woman, what a true friend. Somehow, now she was David, she saw Honoria in a different light. Poor Norie! She too had her wistful leanings, her sorrows and disappointments. What a good thing it would be if her mother decided to die--of course she would, could, never say any such thing to Norie--to die and set free Honoria to marry Major Petworth Armstrong! She felt Norie still hankered after him, but perhaps kept him at bay partly because of her mother's molluscous clingings--No! she wouldn't even sneer at Lady Fraser. Lady Fraser had been one of the early champions of Woman's rights. Very likely it was a dread of Vivie's sneers and disappointment that had mainly kept back Norie from accepting Major Armstrong's advances. Well, when next they met she--Vivie--or better still David--would set that right. CHAPTER VII HONORIA AGAIN 7, Fig Tree Court, Temple. _March_ 20, 1902. DEAR HONORIA,-- I am going down to spend Easter with my people in South Wales. Before I leave I should so very much like a long talk with you where we can talk freely and undisturbed. That is impossible at the Office for a hundred reasons, especially now that Beryl Claridge has taken to working early in her new-found zeal, while Bertie Adams deems it his duty to stay late. I am--really, truly--grieved to hear that your mother is so ill again. I would not ask to meet her--even if she was well enough to receive people--because she does not know me and when one is as ill as she is, the introduction to a stranger is a horrid jar. But if you _could_ fit in say an hour's detachment from her side--is it "bed-side" or is she able to get up?--and could receive me in your own sitting-room, why then we could have that full and free talk I should like on your affairs and on mine and on the joint affairs of _Fraser and Warren_. Yours sincerely, D. V. W. DEAR DAVID,-- Come by all means. The wish for a talk is fully reciprocated on my side. Mother generally tries to sleep in the afternoon between three and six, and a Nurse is then with her. Yours sincerely, H. F. "Mr. David Williams wishes to see you, Miss," said a waiter, meeting Honoria on a Thursday afternoon, as she was emerging into their tiny hall from her mother's room. "Show him up, please.... Ah _there_ you are, _David_. We must both talk rather low as mother is easily waked. Come into my study; fortunately it is at the other end of the flat." * * * * * They reach the study, and Honoria closes the door softly but firmly behind them.