"And so," finished Lady Bulstrode triumphantly, "I persuaded her to come to me and help me look after Alan's children. Of course, she's much too good to be a governess all her life, but I mean to marry her to the first nice rich man who's got the sense to appreciate her. I've got one in my mind's eye now." I suddenly conceived a violent dislike for this promisingly placed gentleman. "I shouldn't think it would be difficult to fall in love with her," I remarked casually, "unless one has a rooted objection to girls being sunburned." Lady Bulstrode laughed. "Oh, most of that will wear off--she has just been for her holiday, staying with some old school friends, and sailing about the coast, and living in the open air. I told her she'd ruined her complexion, but I don't think she worries her head about that kind of thing. She's a born gipsy, just like her father." The booming sound of a gong from the hall interrupted our conversation. Glancing at the clock, Lady Bulstrode got up from her chair. "Come along, Guy," she said; "that's the dressing-bell. I will take you up to your room, and then you can tell me if there's anything you want." Closely followed by Rufus, who was obviously determined not to lose sight of me in this strange establishment, I accompanied my hostess along one side of the gallery, and up a small flight of stairs which led to a couple of doors. "Here we are!" she said, opening the one on the left hand. "It's Alan's old room. I hope you'll be comfortable, Guy." I glanced round the big, splendidly furnished apartment, and saw that my things were all unpacked and laid out ready for use. My eyes took in the thick Turkey carpet, the deep easy chairs, and the luxurious brass bedstead. I looked up with a smile. "I think I can rough it here for a night or so," I said. "I'm used to hardships." Lady Bulstrode laughed again, and, giving me an affectionate pat on the shoulder, left me to my toilet--and my reflections. I could have desired no better company than the latter. Indeed, my first impulse on finding myself alone was to indulge in a kind of sacramental joy-dance round the room; but the thought that there might be someone underneath was sufficient to restrain my ardour. So I contented myself with going up to Rufus, who had jumped on to one of the chairs, and warmly shaking him by the paw. "Rufus," I said, "we've found her--found her first shot! Who says there's no such thing as Destiny?" Rufus licked my hand, and then looked up as though to convey his congratulations. "We'll run no more risks," I went on. "We won't let her sail away this time, eh, my dog?" Then I paused. "Why, damn it, Rufus," I added, "you're sitting on my dress-coat! Get off it, confound you!" He jumped down hastily in some apprehension, but I was feeling far too cheerful to be annoyed. When you have just found the woman you love, even the spectacle of your dress-coat being used as a door-mat fails to arouse any serious resentment.