Patsy kept him awhile on the tenterhooks. He went on to remind her of the burn of the Glen-wood. He described their nests in the beech-butt and under the shelter of the great march dyke. He would have spoken of the race across the moors and the rescue at the White Gates, save that by instinct he knew that her thoughts would at once be carried to Stair Garland, the man who _was_ a man and as such had played the leading part on these occasions. He hated even to see the Duke of Lyonesse limp and to think that he had not even done _that_ himself! "Well, the one after next!" said Patsy carelessly, after consulting the list of dances for those she had marked with her own hieroglyphic. "Meanwhile, stay here with Lady Lucy till I am ready. I am certainly not going to seek you up and down the ball-room." This she said because she noticed that the Arlington was beginning to waft signals in the young man's direction with her fan. Therefore, before she took her next partner's arm, she saw Louis sit down beside his delighted mother, and talking to her in a manner so completely absorbed that he never so much as raised his eyes. Patsy proved perfectly entrancing when it came to be Louis's turn to dance with her, but before the end of the music they dropped out, for Patsy said, "Now we shall climb the bank till we find our nook!" And taking the young man's hand they ran nimbly up the stairs till they came to a dimly curtained recess which, if the truth must be told, Patsy had just vacated. "Oh," said Louis, delighted, "you are as clever at finding hidie-holes in Hertford House as you used to be in the brows of the Abbey Water!" "Draw the curtains closer," said Patsy, "or we shall have your Mrs. Arlington spying us out and carrying you off with a single wave of her fan. She reminds me of Circe--a fat, curly-wurly Circe--like that picture Uncle Ju brought back from Italy. _Why_ do you run after her, Louis? I told you to go and make love to as many pretty girls as would let you, and here you go and break the tables of affinity by making love to your grandmother!" At this Louis was vaguely offended--or perhaps rather hurt than offended. He had not come there to be lectured--at least not about Mrs. Arlington. But Patsy had the good sense to administer the cooling bitter medicine immediately after the waltz, when men are never quite themselves. She would give him time to get over it. "I am not making love to Mrs. Arlington," he retorted abruptly. "I should think not," said Patsy, as instantaneously. "As an officer and a gentleman I should hope that you know better what England expects of you--Patsy Ferris also. What does the man suppose he is here for, that he should begin by telling me that? But seriously, Louis, you used to be always one to strike out new paths for yourself--why do you stick to the dusty highway--or, perhaps one might say in Mrs. Arlington's case, the old military road?"