When bedtime came, Letty lingered in the drawing-room a little behind the other ladies, on the plea of gathering up some trifles that belonged to her. So that when George Tressady went out with her to light her candle for her in the gallery, they found themselves alone. He had fallen into a sudden silence, which made her sweep him a look of scrutiny as she took her candlestick. The slim yet virile figure drawn to its full height, the significant, long-chinned face, pleased her senses. He might be plain--she supposed he was--but he was, nevertheless, distinguished, and extraordinarily alive. "I believe you are tired to death," she said to him. "Why don't you go to bed?" She spoke with the freedom of one accustomed to advise all her male acquaintance for their good. George laughed. "Tired? Not I. I was before dinner. Look here, Miss Sewell, I've got a question to ask." "Ask it." "You don't want to spoil my great day, do you? You do repent that headache?" They looked at each other, dancing laughter in each pair of eyes, combined in his with an excited insistence. "Good-night, Sir George," she said, holding out her hand. He retained it. "You do?" he said, bending over her. She liked the situation, and made no immediate effort to change it. "Ask me a month hence, when I have proved your statements." "Then you admit it was all pretence?" "I admit nothing," she said joyously. "I protected my friend." "Yes, by injuring and offending another friend. Would it please you if I said I missed you _very_ much at Malford to-day?" "I will tell you to-morrow--it is so late! Please let me have my hand." He took no notice, and they went hand-in-hand, she drawing him, to the foot of the stairs. "George!" said a shrill, hesitating voice from overhead. George looked up, and saw his mother. He and Letty started apart, and in another second Letty had glided upstairs and disappeared. "Yes, mother," said George, impatiently. "Will you come here?" He mounted, and found Lady Tressady a little discomposed, but as affected as usual. "Oh, George! it was so dark--I didn't see--I didn't know. George, will you have half an hour's talk with me after breakfast to-morrow? Oh, George, my dear boy, my _dear_ boy! Your poor mammy understands!" She laid one hand on his shoulder and, lifting her feather fan in the other, shook it with playful meaning in the direction whither Letty had departed. George hastily withdrew himself. "Of course I will have a talk with you, mother. As for anything else, I don't know what you mean. But you really must let me go to bed; I am much too tired to talk now. Good-night." Lady Tressady went back to her room, smiling but anxious. "She has caught him!" she said to herself; "barefaced little flirt! It is not altogether the best thing for me. But it may dispose him to be generous, if--if I can play my cards."