"But," protested Patricia, "I'm nearly twenty-five, and I am quite able to look after myself." "Patricia, it is my duty to look after you." Miss Brent spoke as if she were about to walk over heated ploughshares rather than to satisfy a natural curiosity. "I repeat," proceeded Miss Brent, "where did you meet Colonel Bowen?" "I have told you, Aunt Adelaide, but you won't believe me." "I want to know the truth, Patricia. Is he really Lord Peter?" persisted Miss Brent. "To be quite candid, I've never asked him," replied Patricia. Miss Brent stared at her niece. The obviously feminine thing was to express surprise; but Miss Brent never did the obvious thing. Instead of repeating, "Never asked him!" she remained silent for some moments while Patricia, with great intentness, proceeded to jerk her gloves into shape. "Patricia, you are mad!" Miss Brent spoke with conviction. Patricia glanced up from her occupation and smiled at her aunt as if entirely sharing her conviction. "It's the price of spinsterhood with some women," was all she said. Miss Brent glared at her; but there was more than a spice of curiosity in her look. "Then you decline to tell me?" she enquired. There was in her voice a note that told of a mind made up. Patricia knew from past experience that her aunt had made up her mind as to her course of action. "Tell you what?" she enquired innocently. "Whether or no the Colonel Bowen you are engaged to is Lord Peter Bowen." Patricia determined to temporise in order to gain time. She knew Aunt Adelaide to be capable of anything, even to calling upon Lord Peter Bowen's family and enquiring if it were he to whom her niece was engaged. She was too bewildered to know how to act. It would be so like this absurd person to turn out to be a lord and make her still more ridiculous. If he were Lord Peter, why on earth had he not told her? Had he thought she would be dazzled? Suddenly there flashed into Patricia's mind an explanation which caused her cheeks to flame and her eyes to flash. She strove to put the idea aside as unworthy of him; but it refused to leave her. She had heard of men giving false names to girls they met--in the way she and Bowen had met. He had, then, in spite of his protestations, mistaken her. In all probability he was not staying at the Quadrant at all. What a fool she had been. She had told all about herself, whereas he had told her nothing beyond the fact that his name was Peter Bowen. Oh, it was intolerable, humiliating! The worst of it was that she seemed unable to extricate herself from the ever-increasing tangle arising out of her folly. Miss Wangle and Galvin House had been sufficiently serious factors, requiring all her watchfulness to circumvent them; but now Aunt Adelaide had thrown herself precipitately into the mêlée, and heaven alone knew what would be the outcome!