Allan's spirits had risen with the expectation of Miss Vincent's appearance. He had been right in his conclusions, after all. He resumed his seat, which was near enough to Mrs. Wornock's chair for confidential talk. "You have quite deserted me, Mr. Carew," she said, with gentle reproachfulness. "I thought you would have been to see me before now." "I did not want to seem intrusive." "You could not seem or be intrusive. You are so much more to me than a common friend. You remind me of the past--of my son. You would be almost as another son to me if you would let me think of you like that. If----" She spoke quickly, almost passionately, and her low voice had a thrill of feeling in it which touched him deeply. What a strange impulsive creature this woman was, in spite of the timidity and reserve that had kept her aloof from that rural society over which she might have reigned as a queen. Before Allan could reply to Mrs. Wornock's unfinished speech, there came a welcome diversion in the shape of a large black poodle, which rushed vehemently across the lawn, stood on end beside Mrs. Mornington's gown for a moment or two, sniffed the tea-table, wheeled round, and rushed off again in a diagonal line towards the point whence he had come. This sudden black appearance was followed by an appearance in lavender cambric, and the tall, slim form of a very elegant young woman, whose simple attire, as at the ball, bore the true Parisian stamp, that indescribable air of unlikeness to British dress, which is rather a negative than a positive quality. The brilliant dark eyes flashed a smile upon Allan, as the young lady allowed him to take her hand _à l'Anglaise_, after she had spoken to her aunt and been introduced to Mrs. Wornock. "Your poodle is a little too bad, Suzie. He nearly knocked me and the tea-table clean over." "That is one of the aunt's innocent exaggerations," said Suzette, laughing. "If you know her as well as I do, Mrs. Wornock, you must know that she always talks in a large way. Poor Caro. He is only a puppy; and I think, for a puppy, his manners are perfect." Caro was crouching at her feet, breathing hard, for the space of half a minute as she spoke, and then he rushed off again, circling the lawn three or four times, with spasmodic halts by his mistress, or by the tea-table. "He is rather a ridiculous dog at present," apologized Suzette, fondly watching these manœuvres; "but he is going to be very clever. He has begun to die for his queen, and he will do wonderful things when he is older. I have been warned not to teach him too much while he is a puppy, for fear of addling his brain." "I don't believe he has any brain to be addled, or at least he must have addled it for himself with that absurd rushing about," said Mrs. Mornington, dealing out the tea-cups, which Allan meekly handed to the two ladies.