Her eyes still had an expression of cherubic innocence; but just as she let go Frank’s hand she winked abruptly. He found as she turned away, that she had left something in his hand. He unfolded a small, much crumpled piece of blotting paper, taken, he supposed, by stealth from the writing table beside Priscilla’s chair. A note was scratched with a point of a pin on the blotting paper. “Come to the shrubbery, ten sharp. Most important. Excuse scratching. No pencil.” “Priscilla,” said Lady Torrington, “is a sweet child, very subdued and modest.” Frank’s attention was arrested by the silvery sweetness of the tone in which she spoke. He had a feeling that she meant to convey to Miss Lentaigne something more than her words implied. Miss Lentaigne struck a match noisily and lit another cigarette. “She may be a little wanting in animation,” said Lady Torrington, “but that is a fault which one can forgive nowadays when so many girls run into the opposite extreme and become self-assertive.” “Priscilla,” said Miss Lentaigne, “is not always quite so good as she was this evening.” “You must be quite pleased that she isn’t,” said Lady Torrington, with a deliberate, soft smile. “With your ideas about the independence of our sex I can quite understand that Priscilla, if she were always as quiet and gentle as she was this evening, would be trying, very trying.” Frank became acutely uncomfortable. He had entered the room noisily enough, hobbling on his two sticks; but neither lady seemed to be aware of his presence. He began to feel as if he were eavesdropping, listening to a conversation which he was not intended to hear. He hesitated for a moment, wondering whether he ought to say a formal good-night, or get out of the room as quietly as he could without calling attention to his presence. Miss Lentaigne’s next remark decided him. “Your own daughter,” she said, “seems to have imbibed some of our more modern ideas. That must be a trial to you, Lady Torrington.” Frank got up and made his way out of the room without speaking. CHAPTER XVI To reach the corner of the shrubbery it was necessary to cross the lawn. Lord Torrington and Sir Lucius, having lit fresh cigars, were pacing up and down in earnest conversation. Frank hobbled across their path and received a kindly greeting from his uncle. “Well, Frank, out for a breath of fresh air before turning in? Sorry you can’t join our march. Lord Torrington is just talking about your father.” “Thanks, Uncle Lucius,” said Frank, “but I can’t walk. There’s a hammock chair in the corner. I’ll sit there for a while and smoke another cigarette.”