“Dick will be here in a minute!” she exclaimed. “You’re sure you don’t mind my leaving you? You know I wouldn’t under ordinary circumstances, but business is business, and I must see Coombs to-day.” She hurried away, and live minutes later looked in, putting on her gloves as she spoke. “You’re all ready except your hat, aren’t you, Rose? You needn’t start before a quarter to three. It’s at the Court theatre, you know--quite close. Good-bye; I dare say I sha’n’t be very much later than you. I’d like to get a little rest before dinner to-night.” She went out with a smiling nod, and left Rose meditating upon her prettiness, till a ring at the bell startled her, and Mayne was announced. “You know Cecily’s not coming?” was her greeting as they shook hands. “So she told me. Has to see her agent, or something.” “Yes, a business matter. Sit down and have a cigarette; we’ve got half an hour before the matinee.” Mayne complied. As he settled himself in the easy-chair opposite to her, Rose was conscious of very mixed emotions. She liked Mayne. She had always liked him, even in his hobbledehoy stage, when she had first discerned his boyish admiration for Cecily. She looked at him now, and sighed at the perversity of fate. This man, with his unobtrusive air of determination and quiet strength, was the man Cecily should have married. Why could she not have cared for him? Her heart misgave her, and the half-formed determination in her mind for a moment melted. It was after all possibly a dangerous, certainly a thankless, task to interfere. She found herself wishing, wishing with all her strength, that she did not know Cecily so well; that she might at least have the excuse that it was not for an outsider to forecast the future. And in the midst of chaotic reflections, she found herself speaking. “Do you know,” she said, suddenly, “that Philippa Burton is going to marry that young Nevern?” Mayne started. It was the first time that Philippa’s name had been mentioned between them with significance. “No,” he said. “Who told you?” “That queen of gossips, Lady Wilmot, of course.” “Is she sure?” “Yes. They’re keeping the engagement secret, but Nevern’s mother discovered it, and went to Lady Wilmot in tears.” Mayne inquiringly raised his head. “Oh, merely because he’s the only son, and she’s jealous at the thought of any daughter-in-law, I believe,” returned Mrs. Summers in reply to his look. “Of course,” she added, with a shrug, “it would be interesting to know what hints Lady Wilmot dropped during the interview. She knows nothing actually, but she’s very curious about the situation here.” Mayne did not speak for a moment. “And--Kingslake?” he asked, presently. “Doesn’t know--yet.” Dick lifted his eyebrows. “Cecily?” he said, with some difficulty. “Yes. Lady Wilmot called yesterday, and told both of us--in strict confidence.” Mayne’s rather set face relaxed into a quizzical smile. Rose answered it calmly.