"Indeed?—Then why this genteel refection?" Here Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn was forced to look over his shoulder into the room and answer the invisible Selina. "Yes, my own. I am speaking to Miss Marjory." Meanwhile Jack was signalling frantically to Marjolaine, who, on her part, was as frantically motioning him to keep still. Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn again leant forward, and Jack vanished only just in time. Marjolaine explained. "I—I always take a little refreshment at this hour." It was quite obvious that Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn did not believe her. "How singularly unobservant I am! I have never noticed it. Wait one moment. I ’ll come and help you." This would never do. "No, thank you," cried Marjolaine, "I am sure your wife wants you." And she added, as a parting shot, "She sees so little of you!" Then taking her courage in both hands she hurried into the Gazebo, where she and Jack stood, pictures of horror, silently awaiting Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn’s next move. The latter leant far out of his window vainly endeavouring to peer round the corner. "Curious, very curious," he muttered. "Did you hear him?" asked Marjory, in a tragic whisper. "If he comes here I ’ll punch his head," growled Jack. "Be quiet!"—And again they both listened. But Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn’s attention was engaged by Selina, and it was clear from his remarks that the dear lady was not in her pleasantest humour. "No, my dear, of course I did n’t mean to go.—_Do_ you think her an ugly little thing?—Matter of taste.—Oh, come! Not jealous, my own one?—Hold your hand?—Oh, certainly, if you wish it!" And down came the window with a crash and what sounded very like a fine Saxon monosyllable. Marjolaine and Jack, hearing the window close, uttered a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness!" cried Marjolaine; and then, being a daughter of Eve, "Now you see what you ’ve done!" "’Pon my honour, I ’ve done nothing. Just waited hours." "Hours, indeed!" said the girl, scornfully. "It seemed hours," answered Jack, insinuatingly. "It seemed hours—Miss—Lucy Pryor." "Lucy Pryor? Oh! you got that out of the book! That was Maman’s name before she married. My name’s Lachesnais." "Beg pardon?" "La-ches-nais. Marjolaine Lachesnais. You don’t pronounce the middle _s_." "Are you French?" "My father was." She had filled the tumbler with claret and was holding it out to Jack. "Never mind about all that. Make haste." Jack rose to his feet, tumbler in hand. "Marjolaine—? That means Marjoram, does n’t it?" "Do you know French?" Jack bowed as he swallowed the claret. He swallowed unwisely. It was a lady’s claret, and that and a lady’s cigar are things to be avoided by the judicious. Indeed Jack was shaken from head to foot by a convulsive shudder. "Oh Lord!" said he involuntarily. But he pulled himself together like a man. "I beg pardon!—Know French? Very little. Marjoram—sweet Marjoram—how appropriate!"