"Good-bye," said she, at the corner. She held out her hand. "It is very nice to have known you, Mr. Eric Temple. Our mutual acquaintance, the impeccable Trotter, has my address if you should care to avail yourself of it. After the end of June, I shall be on Long Island." "It is very good of you, Mrs. Millidew," he said, clasping her hand. His hat was off. The warm spring sun gleamed in his curly brown hair. "I hope to be in England before the end of June." He hesitated a moment, and then said: "Lady Temple and I will be happy to welcome you at Fenlew Hall when you next visit England. Good-bye." She watched him stride off down the Avenue. She was still looking after him with slightly disturbed eyes when the butler opened the door. "Any fool should have known," she said, to herself and not to the servant. A queer little light danced in her eyes. "As a matter of fact, I suppose I did know without realizing it. Is Mrs. Hemleigh at home, Brooks?" "She is expecting you, Mrs. Millidew." "By the way, Brooks, do you happen to know anything about Fenlew Hall?" Brooks was as good a liar as any one. He had come, highly recommended, from a Fifth Avenue intelligence office. He did not hesitate an instant. "The Duke of Aberdeen's county seat, ma'am? I know it quite well. I cawn't tell you 'ow many times I've been in the plice, ma'am, while I was valeting his Grice, the Duke of Manchester." CHAPTER XXI THE BRIDE-ELECT Four persons, a woman and three men, assembled in the insignificant hallway at the top of the steps reaching to the fifth floor of the building occupied by Deborah, Limited. To be precise, they were the butler, the parlour-maid and two austere footmen. Cricklewick was speaking. "Marriage is a most venturesome undertaking, my dear." He addressed himself to Julia, the parlour-maid. "So don't go saying it isn't." "I didn't say it wasn't," said Julia stoutly. "What I said was, if ever any two people were made for each other it's him and her." "In my time," said Cricklewick, "I've seen what looked to be the most excellent matches turn out to be nothing but fizzles." "Well, this one won't," said she. "As I was saying to McFaddan in the back 'all a minute ago, Mr. Cricklewick, the larst weddin' of any consequence I can remember hattending was when Lady Jane's mother was married to the Earl of Wexham. I sat on the box with old 'Oppins and we ran hover a dog drivin' away from St. George's in 'Anover Square." It was Moody who spoke. He seemed to relish the memory. "It was such a pretty little dog, too. I shall never forget it." He winked at Julia. "You needn't wink at me, Moody," said Julia. "I didn't like the little beast any more than you did."