flavoured the sweetness of his love-making with the spice of mischief. He saw that Isobel felt, that she understood. Vivien noticed nothing, understood nothing. There was a secret set up between Isobel and himself; Vivien was a stranger to it. Harry enlarged his interests! His relations with Vivien were delightful, with Isobel they had a piquant flavour. Well, was not this a more agreeable state of things than that Isobel should be simply a bore to him, and he simply a bore to Isobel? The fact of being an engaged man did not reconcile Harry Belfield to being simply a bore to a handsome woman. Among Wellgood's orders there was one that Vivien should go to bed at ten o'clock sharp, and Harry depart at the same hour. Wherever they were, in house or garden, the lovers had to be found and parted--Vivien ordered upstairs, Harry sent about his business. Isobel's duty was to enforce this rule. Harry found a handle in it; his malice laid hold of it. "Here comes the strict governess!" he cried. Or, "Here's nurse! Bedtime! Won't you really let us have ten minutes more? I believe you sit with your watch in your hand." Vivien rebuked him. "It's not poor Isobel's fault, Harry. She's got to." "No, she likes doing it. She's a born martinet! She positively loves to separate us. You've no sympathy with the soft emotions, Miss Vintry. You're just a born dragon." "Please come, Vivien," Isobel said, flushing a little. "It's not my fault, you know." "Do you never break rules, Miss Vintry? It's what they're made for, you know." "We've not been taught to think that in this house, have we, Vivien?" "No, indeed," said Vivien with marked emphasis. Harry laughed. "A pattern child and a pattern governess! Well, we must kiss good-night. You and I, I mean, of course, Vivien. And I'm sent home too, as usual?" "You don't want to stay here alone, do you?" asked Isobel. "Well, no, that wouldn't be very lively." His eyes rested on her a moment, possibly--just possibly--hinting that, though Vivien left him, yet he need not be alone. One evening, a very fine one--when it seemed more absurd than usual to be ordered to bed or to be sent home so early--Harry chaffed Isobel in this fashion, yet with a touch of real contempt. He did feel a genuine contempt for people who kept rules just because they were rules. Vivien again interceded. "Isobel can't help it, Harry. It's father's orders." "Surely some discretion is left to the trusty guardian?" "It's no pleasure to me to be a nuisance, I assure you," said Isobel rather hotly. "Please come in, Vivien; it's well past ten o'clock." Vivien rose directly. "You've hurt Isobel, I think," she whispered to Harry. "Say something kind to her. Good-night, dear Harry!" She ran off, ahead of Isobel, who was about to follow, with no word to Harry.