"I don't think Lord Bentworth meant to insult me. He only said he had never seen such a red, curly mouth as mine; and as I was bound to go to the devil some day with that, and such hair, I might begin by kissing him--he explained it all." "And were you not very angry?" his voice wrathful. "No, not very; I could not be, I was shaking so with laughter. If you could have seen the silly old thing, like a wizened monkey, with dyed hair and an eye-glass--it was too comic! I only told you because you said the sentence 'begin with you,' and I wanted to know if it was the same thing----" Mr. Carruthers's eyes had such a strange expression--puzzle and amusement, and something else. He came over close to me. "Because," I went on, "if so--I believe if that is always the beginning, I don't want any beginnings. I haven't the slightest desire to kiss any one. I should simply hate it." Mr. Carruthers laughed. "Oh, you are only a baby child, after all!" he said. This annoyed me. I got up with great dignity. "Tea will be ready in the white drawing-room," I said, stiffly, and walked towards my bedroom door. He came after me. "Send your maid away, and let us have it up here," he said. "I like this room." But I was not to be appeased thus easily, and deliberately called Veronique and gave her fresh directions. "Poor old Mr. Barton will be feeling so lonely," I said, as I went out into the passage. "I am going to see that he has a nice tea," and I looked back at Mr. Carruthers over my shoulder. Of course, he followed me, and we went together down the stairs. In the hall a footman with a telegram met us. He tore it open impatiently. Then he looked quite annoyed. "I hope you won't mind," he said, "but a friend of mine, Lord Robert Vavasour, is arriving this afternoon. He is a--er--great judge of pictures. I forgot I asked him to come down and look at them; it clean went out of my head." I told him he was host, and why should I object to what guests he had. "Besides, I am going myself to-morrow," I said, "if Veronique can get the packing done." "Nonsense! How can I make you understand that I do not mean to let you go at all?" I did not answer--only looked at him defiantly. Mr. Barton was waiting patiently for us in the white drawing-room, and we had not been munching muffins for five minutes when the sound of wheels crunching the gravel of the great sweep--the windows of this room look out that way--interrupted our made conversation. "This must be Bob arriving," Mr. Carruthers said, and went reluctantly into the hall to meet his guest. They came back together presently, and he introduced Lord Robert to me. I felt at once he was rather a pet. Such a shape! Just like the Apollo Belvedere! I do love that look, with a tiny waist and nice shoulders, and looking as if he were as lithe as a snake, and yet could break pokers in half like Mr. Rochester in _Jane Eyre_.