A vision of the past flashed up. Instantly Fulvia saw the crumpled slip of paper, hidden away in her dressing-box. Daisy's parting request was clear, with all that it involved. Fulvia actually sprang to her feet, aghast. By this time, four o'clock, Daisy might have found the concealed paper; and outspoken childish Daisy would of a certainty proclaim her "find" to the household. Nigel would hear of it! Already he might have heard; already the thing might be done past recall. And if not yet, could Fulvia reach home in time to stop its being done? She stood with dilated eyes, terror-struck. Mr. Carden-Cox put up his eye-glass, and examined her curiously. "Eh! What now! Sit down. Postscript found? Come, confess!" Fulvia controlled herself to meet his gaze; but she could not control the startled hurry of her voice. "Something—I have remembered," she said rapidly. "Something I ought to have done before leaving home it has just come to me. I must go at once." Fulvia did not mean to make any untrue statement. She scarcely knew what she said! And that which she wished she had done was, definitely, to have forbidden Daisy's meddling with her box. "Nonsense, child. Sit down and be quiet. Something you ought to have done! What do you mean? What ought you to have done?" His black eyes examined her, with a look of suspicion. "It doesn't matter what. I must go home. I am going home." "The fly will be here at half-past five. You will have tea with me first, of course. This 'something' must be of mighty importance. Fulvia Rolfe is not a girl to be disturbed about nothing! Has it to do with the lost postscript, hey?" A natural question, since his mention of the postscript had been the seeming cause of her sudden fright. She was so unnerved by the shock she had received, that his suggestion renewed her trembling. She was obliged to sit down, even while she reiterated, "I must go! I can't stay! I must get home at once!" For she might still be in time. "Stuff and nonsense!" Mr. Carden-Cox spoke angrily. "The girl is demented. Fact is, it's one of two things. Either you are tired of being here, and you want to get off the rest of the time, or you are deceiving me about the postscript, and can't stand being questioned. I believe it's that." Fulvia seized on the first suggestion. "I am not tired of being with you, but I can't endure to be away from Nigel all Saturday afternoon," she said. The assertion was true enough, though this had now ceased to be her prominent feeling. "Any other day I should not mind, but Saturday—Saturday is his only free afternoon. Uncle, do let me go. I will come another time, and stay as long as you like. Monday, Tuesday, any day; only not Saturday. I always have him then." Mr. Carden-Cox grunted out a laugh, not ill pleased. "You're a pair of model lovers!" he growled. "Well, have things your own way. But the fly is not ordered till 5.30."