"Yes," I said, "and I've found mine. So long as my nine hundred pounds a year lasts, and I can live on the workers, I'm quite content to go on tramping round the world--especially if editors will pay me for scribbling about it. I'm a born loafer, and I suppose when the world is properly organized I shall be locked up in a labour colony." "At least you'll be in good company," said Lady Bulstrode, "though I think you make yourself out worse than you are," she added. "No," I said. "Mine is a useless life. I've never had any illusions on the point. If I had, George would have shattered them long ago." "George," she returned, "is too serious to live. I tried to get him up here for a few days, and he said things were so bad at Westminster that he couldn't be spared. Those were his actual words." I nodded. "They would be. There's no bally mock modesty about George! Who is here, by the way?" "Well, there's no one at the present moment except Alan's two children and old Mrs. Fawcett. I have got a regular smart house-party coming for you to-morrow, though." She looked at me mischievously. "Go on," I said; "I can bear it." "There's Miss Faversham and her mother"--she began to tick them off on her fingers--"a good-looking girl, lots of money; her father is the big contractor, Faversham and Kent, you know. Then there are the Gordons--the K.C. and his wife; and the McCullochs from Innestair--another pretty girl there; and Raymond Sturgis--he's a sort of cousin of yours; and old Lord Pembery and----" "Great Scott!" I interrupted. "Do you mean they're all coming in a bunch?" "More or less. They will be here to dinner, anyhow. I shall want you to play host, Guy." I groaned. "Oh, it will do you good," she went on ruthlessly. "You shall have Miss Faversham on one side and the McCulloch girl on the other." "If you're going to use threats--" I began with some dignity. A sudden tap at the door interrupted me. "Come in!" called out Lady Bulstrode. I looked up, casually expecting Parkes, and for one radiant, blinding moment I thought I'd gone mad. Standing in the doorway was Astarte. She was dressed in a plain black evening frock, and the plaits of brown hair no longer hung down her back. But I knew her--knew her as instantly and surely as I should know the sun or the stars. So did Rufus. With one loud yell of joy he leapt to his feet and hurled himself upon her in wild and vociferous delight. "Bless my soul!" remarked Lady Bulstrode. "Rufus!" I said, with a tremendous effort, "control yourself!" Astarte picked him up in her arms, and with a couple of pats soothed him into something like sanity. She was plainly as amazed as I was, and I could see her breast rising and falling rapidly as she looked first at me and then at Lady Bulstrode. When she spoke, however, it was in her usual delightfully calm manner. "I'm so sorry," she said. "I thought you were alone."