"These colours and this imitation Chippendale are rather awful, aren't they," Lord Algy said, looking round, "but we must not mind, as it is only for one night; the Palatial in Paris will be different--I am glad Hanson saw to the flowers." Huge bunches of roses stood upon the table and mantelpiece. Katherine Bush thought it a splendid place, but if it appeared rather "awful" to him, she must not show her admiration. "Tea will come in a moment--I mean chocolate, pet--and I think we shall be as jolly as can be. In there is your room; they will have brought up your valise by now, I expect." Katherine Bush moved forward and went through the door. A cheery fire was burning, and the curtains were drawn, and on a chair there was a big cardboard box. She looked at it, it was addressed "Mrs. Rufus." "Who--is that--?--and what is it for?" she asked, in a voice deep as a well. "It is just a fur-lined coat, darling," Lord Algy answered, as he pulled undone the string, "and a little wrap--I thought you would be so awfully cold on the boat--and probably would not have been able to bring much luggage." A slight flush came into the young woman's white cheeks, something in her loathed taking presents. "Thanks awfully--I'll be glad to have you lend them to me for this trip--but why is it addressed 'Mrs. Rufus'?--Mr. Devereux has got a sister of that name." Lord Algy laughed. "Well, you see, I could not have it 'Fitz-Rufus,' because every one knows that is the Merioneth name, given us poor devils by the Normans, because we were such a red-headed lot, and I bet they found our own too difficult to pronounce!" He began pulling out the coat and a soft pink silk dressing-gown from the box. "I always am just 'Rufus' when I come out like this." He laughed again a little constrainedly; it had just struck him that the latter part of his sentence was perhaps not very felicitously expressed--since he knew Katherine Bush was no chorus lady, accustomed to temporary wedded appellations! She looked him straight in the eyes with her strange, disconcertingly steady grey-green ones--and then she smiled again--as the Sphinx might have done before being set in eternal immobility of stone. Lord Algy felt stupidly uncomfortable, so he folded her in his arms with a fond caress, a far better plan he had always found than any argument or explanation with women. Katherine Bush realised the joy of it. She was ready for every grade of pleasure as well as experience. This was how things were done in Lord Algy's world, then--So be it. Together they looked at the coat and wrap, and he helped her to take off her hat and jacket, and try them on. They were very friendly, and Lord Algy suggested that as the dressing-gown was almost a teagown and was fairly pretty, she might wear it for dinner, which they would have in the sitting-room. "You'll look sweet in pink, darling," he lisped, as he kissed her ear, "and it will be so soft and cosy."