unquestionably impregnated with the odour of tobacco, which the burning of scent-sticks quite failed to dissemble. While Mr. Iglesias thus noted the details of his surroundings, his companion observed him, closely, intently. Suddenly she flung herself back against the piled-up cushions. "Let the dust lie, let it lie," she cried, almost shrilly. And as Dominic turned to her, surprised at her vehemence, she added, "Yes, it's safest so. Let it lie till it grows thick, carpeting all the surface, so that, treading on it, one's footsteps are muffled, making no sound!" Poppy jumped up, crossed swiftly to the writing-table, swept the long row of photographs together and pushed them into a drawer. "There you go, face downwards, every man Jack of you," she said. "And, for all I care, there you may stay." Then she turned round, confronting Dominic Iglesias, who had risen also, her head carried high, her teeth set. "You may not grasp the connection of ideas--I don't the very least see how you should, and I've no extra special wish that you should. But you must just take my word for it that's one way of thickening the dust, in my particular case, and not half a bad way either!" She pushed the heavy masses of her hair up from her forehead, crossed the little room again and stood before Iglesias smiling, her hands clasped behind her back. "Yes, you rest me," she said, "you do, even more than I expected. I wanted awfully to see you; and yet I was half afraid if I did we mightn't pull the thing off. But we are going to pull it off, aren't we?" This direct appeal demanded a direct answer; and Iglesias, looking down at her, felt nerved to a certain steadiness of resolve. "Yes, we are," he said gravely. "That, at least, is my purpose. I have very few friends. I should value a new one." Then he added, with a certain hesitancy, "I am glad you are not disappointed." "Ah! you have come on--not a question about it," Poppy cried. "Sit down again. You needn't go yet. And we are through with disturbances for this afternoon anyhow. An anti-cyclone, as the weather reports put it, is extending over all our coasts. I feel quite happy. Let me enjoy the anti-cyclone while it lasts--and I'll give you your tea." But of that tea Dominic Iglesias was fated not to drink. A ring at the bell, a parley at the front door, followed by the advent of an elderly parlourmaid bearing a card on a small lacquer tray. "His lordship says if you're engaged he could wait a little, ma'am. But he wants particularly to see you to-day." Poppy took the card, glanced at it, and then at Dominic Iglesias. "I'm afraid, I'm awfully afraid I shall have to let you go," she said. She took both his hands, and holding them, without pressure but with a great friendliness, went on: "Don't be offended, or you'll make me miserable. But he's an old friend; and he's been a perfect brick to me--stood by me through all my worst luck. I can't send him away. You won't be off ended?" "No," Iglesias said.