Miss Carrington seemed disturbed. Little Anne let the leather-bound volume drop in a V on her knee like a red velvet cap, and looked curiously toward the door. She saw Miss Abercrombie, in her russet riding clothes, come in and run swiftly to Miss Carrington’s side, and drop on one knee, her other russet-leather-booted foot resting on its toe as she laid her radiant head on the old lady’s hands. Behind her followed slowly, halting midway to the couch, a tall man with dark eyes and hair, perfectly clad, smiling an amused smile beyond little Anne’s analytic powers, but which she did not like. Miss Carrington, looking over Helen at him, knew that he was appraising the scene with no intention to take part in a comedy. “Oh, dearest old friend,” cried Helen, her voice thrilling, “give me your best wishes and loving sympathy! George and I----” She stopped, as if overcome. “Congratulations, Mr. Lanbury!” said Miss Carrington, extending her hand. “I cannot rise. You surely will be the justly envied man of this year!” “Thanks, Miss Carrington. Also of all succeeding years,” said George Lanbury. “Helen is not merely a jewel; she’s the crown jewels and the crown. I flatter myself that her wit and beauty, with my wealth and her father’s position, will be a combination hard to beat. I didn’t show her the ring, but I brought it along. She wouldn’t give me an answer in the spring, but she did say she’d send for me if she decided my way. I rather thought she’d see it as I did. Nice girl all the same, Helen, to see it! Come and get your ring, my royal princess!” With a deprecating and inquiring glance at Miss Carrington, Helen obediently arose and went over to her betrothed. He produced from his pocket an immense diamond and a guarding hoop of diamonds. He put them both on Helen’s finger, kissing her repeatedly, with an ardour that declared an old woman and a child not to be worth minding. Little Anne hastily slid down from her high chair; her eyes were wide and alarmed. “I must go right away, Miss Carrington,” she said. “I’ve got to go now, thank you; I’ve had a pleasant time.” “Who’s the lean squab?” asked George Lanbury. “Good-bye, little Anne. I like to have you beside me. Thank you, dear, and come again,” Miss Carrington quickly interposed. “Is it possible that you are joining the cult?” asked Helen. The sight of Anne Berkley at this moment--recalling where and how she had last seen her, underscoring the contrast between the great stone flashing on her hand, the man who had just put it there, and what she had hoped would be her fate--came upon Helen as an evil omen. “Small dark banshees seem to bring bad luck,” she added, involuntarily. “I tried to find four-leaf clovers for you, Miss Abercrombie, because you hunted for them so hard that day with Kit, and I wanted you to have good luck for giving me Kitca, but I couldn’t find one. I’ll try, though, to get you some.”