"I'm glad you're a D.S.O., though," she went on, half to herself, "that's sure to interest them, and it's nice to think you're more than a major. Miss Wangle and Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe are most worldly-minded. Of course it would have been nicer had you been a field-marshal; but I suppose you couldn't be promoted from a major to a field-marshal in the course of a few days, could you?" "Well, it's not usual," he confessed. When the meal was over Bowen looked at his watch. "I'm afraid it's too late for a show, it's a quarter to ten." "A quarter to ten!" cried Patricia. "How the time has flown. I shall have to be going home." He noticed preparations for a move at the Wangle table. "Oh, please, don't hurry! Let's go upstairs and sit and smoke for a little time." "Do you think I ought," enquired Patricia critically, her head on one side. "Well," replied Bowen, "I think that you might safely do so as we are engaged," and that settled it. They went upstairs, and it was a quarter to eleven before Patricia finally decided that she must make a move. "Do you know," she said as she rose, "I am afraid I have enjoyed this most awfully; but oh! to-morrow morning." "Shall you be tired?" he enquired. "Tired!" she queried, "I shall be hot with shame. I shall not dare to look at myself in the glass. I--I shall give myself a most awful time. For days I shall live in torture. You see I'm excited now and--and--you seem so nice, and you've been so awfully kind; but when I get alone, then I shall start wondering what was in your mind, what you have been thinking of me, and--and--oh! it will be awful. No; I'll come with you while you get your hat. I daren't be left alone. It might come on then and--and I should probably bolt. Of course I shall have to ask you to see me home, if you will, because--because----" "I'm your fiancé," he smiled. "Ummm," she nodded. Both were silent as they sped along westward in the taxi, neither seeming to wish to break the spell. "Thinking?" enquired Bowen at length, as they passed the Marble Arch. "I was thinking how perfectly sweet you've been," replied Patricia gravely. "You have understood everything and--and--you see I was so much at your mercy. Shall I tell you what I was thinking?" "Please do." "It sounds horribly sentimental." "Never mind," he replied. "Well, I was thinking that your mother would like to know that you had done what you have done to-night. And now, please, tell me how much my dinner was." "Your dinner!" "Yes, _ple-e-e-e-ase_," she emphasised the "please." "You insist?" And then Patricia did a strange thing. She placed her hand upon Bowen's and pressed it. "Please go on understanding," she said, and he told her how much the dinner was and took the money from her. "May I pay for the taxi?" he enquired comically.