"We are staying in town," she said, "because my father is a bookworm and can only live near a library--he only exists elsewhere. I cannot find it in my heart to tear him away from the British Museum; but we make the best of it. We are going to have a water-party to-morrow at Richmond." "Yes," said Jack. She waited for him to ask for an invitation; then, pressing her lip with her fan, said: "Will you join us?" Jack hesitated a moment. "I shall be delighted," he said. "You don't look it," she said. "But I forgot--savages rarely smile. At any rate, we start to-morrow at twelve o'clock. Sir Arkroyd is going to drive us down in Lord Dalrymple's drag." "Perhaps there isn't room," said Jack. "Are you trying to find an excuse for not coming?" she said, smiling on him. Jack frowned, and then laughed. "I'll come," he said. Yes, there was a nameless charm about her which had made itself felt already. Was it her beauty or her frankness--the latter so different to the cut-and-dried and measured manner of the ordinary women of society? "I'll come," he said. Then he looked around. "This is a beautiful room. Where did you get all the flowers from? Some of them I never saw before in London." "Do you like them?" she said. "Many of them we brought over with us from 'across the seas,' the others I ransacked London to get--at least, poor Mrs. Fellowes did." "Why poor?" he said. "Because she has the misfortune to be my companion, and I worry her to death." "A pleasant death," he muttered. "Thanks," she said. "That is the second compliment you have paid me. And yet they say you are not gallant, as the French have it." "It's the heat," said Jack, in his grim way. "You will find some ices in the ante-room there, behind that lace curtain." "Shall I get you one?" said Jack. She nodded. "Thanks! Yes, that is the way," and she rose to point to a winding path made through the rows of ferns and tropical plants. He had to pass her in going, and in doing so he struck a spray of a palm with his head; it recoiled, and caught some of its soft, spiky leaves in her hair. She uttered a half-laughing cry, and Jack turned. "I beg your pardon," he said. "I am awfully clumsy. Allow me." She bent her head toward him, laughing, and Jack disentangled the silken threads from the great clinging leaf. In doing so he again proved his clumsiness, for the silken threads got round his fingers. He could feel her soft, peach-like face against his wrist, and being human his blood thrilled. Lady Bell looked up. Her face was pale, and her eyes drooping and languid. "Are you going to scalp me after all?" she murmured. Jack's heart beat strangely. "I--I am very sorry," he muttered below his breath, and with lowered eyes he went on. Lady Bell looked after him and drew a long breath. A sigh that almost echoed hers startled her, and turning she saw Una, sitting where she had left her, with her hands clasped in her lap. "My child," said Lady Bell, "I had almost----"