"You'll not have more than enough time for lunch before your matinée, Miss Flower," Seymour observed, with his usual indifferent air. Not his business whether she were in time, but he might as well mention the matter! "My hat and cloak!" cried the Nun, springing up. She took Sally's arm and ran her into the house with her. "Hurrah for work, Sally!" Suddenly Sally threw her arms round her friend's neck and exclaimed, with something very like a sob, "Oh, my darling, if only you could have everything you want!" The Nun's lips quivered again; her bright eyes were a little dim. "But, Sally dear, I never fall in love!" Miss Dutton relapsed, with equal abruptness, into her habitual demeanour. "Well, he's a man--and a fool like all the rest of them!" she remarked. The Nun gurgled. A record was saved--at the last moment. Because she did not cry--any more than she fell in love. The Nun came out, equipped for the journey. She was smiling still. "Do I look all right, Seymour?" "At the best of your looks, if I may say so, Miss Flower." "Thank you very much, Seymour. Get in with you, Sally! You are a slow girl, always!" She pressed Sally's hand as the car started. "Much better like this, really. I have always Seymour's admiration." His name caught Seymour's ear. "I beg your pardon, Miss Flower?" "I only said you were an admirable driver, Seymour." "Naturally I drive carefully when you're in the car, Miss Flower." "There!" said the Nun triumphantly. "I told you so, Sally!" Chapter XXVII. NOT OF HIS SEEKING.