"What?" Mr Bertrand put down his cup and turned to confront Miss Carr with a face from which every trace of laughter had disappeared. "Accepted him? Lettice? This is serious indeed. Had you ever suspected--or noticed any sign of an attachment growing up between them?" Miss Carr wrung her hands in distress. "My dear Austin, how can you ask such a question? As if I would not have consulted with you at once if that had been the case. You know what Arthur Newcome is--the acme of all that is sober and stolid. I have never seen a sign of emotion of any kind on his face until this afternoon. He has seen a good deal of Lettice, for she and Madge are great friends, but I never thought of anything more--never for one moment! And as for Lettice herself, I am confident that the child never thought of him in that light, and that she is as heart-whole as I am myself." "Then why--why--?" "Oh, don't ask me! I am too miserable and disappointed to speak. I thought I had guarded against this sort of thing; but you know what Lettice is. He is very much in love, and no doubt she was pleased and flattered." Mr Bertrand thrust his hands into his pockets and paced up and down the room. His face looked drawn and anxious, but after five minutes had passed he drew a long breath and made a determined effort at cheerfulness. "Well, it's a bad business, but it has to be faced. I am humiliated and disappointed that Lettice could have behaved so foolishly; but you must not blame yourself, my dear old friend. No one could have done more for the child for the last three years, and I am glad I am here to help you through this difficulty. The young fellow will have to be told that there has been a mistake. I am sorry for him, but it is better now than later on. When did you say you expected Lettice?" "She may be here at any moment. She was to leave her friends at six o'clock. I thought I heard the door open just now. Perhaps she has arrived." CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. LETTICE IS OBSTINATE. Miss Carr's surmise proved correct, for even as she spoke the door opened and Lettice appeared on the threshold. No longer the Lettice of short skirts and flowing locks, but an elegant young lady who swept forward with a rustle of silken skirts, and held up the sweetest pink and white face in the world to receive her father's kiss of greeting. "Lovely Lettice," indeed, lovelier than ever in the first bloom of womanhood. As her father held her from him at arm's length, the slim figure was almost as tall as his own, and the golden head dropped before the grave, scrutinising glance. Lettice knew that her lover had called during her absence, and Miss Carr's silence, her father's unusual solemnity, added to her natural nervousness. The grey eyes roved from one face to another with a scared, helpless look which they were quick to understand.