He finished his toilet in a leisurely fashion, and then spent an agreeable half-hour over the _Sportsman_, which was the only morning paper that he took in. Current affairs of a more general nature did not interest him much, though in times of national or political crisis it was his habit to borrow the _Daily Mail_ from Spalding. Soon after one, Jennings brought the Suiza round to the front door, and a quarter of an hour later Tony turned in through the gateway of Basil Mansions and drew up alongside the rockery and fountain with which a romantic landlord had enriched the centre of the courtyard. Leaving the car there, he strolled across to Molly's flat and rang the bell. It was answered almost at once by a neatly dressed French maid, who conducted him into a bright and daintily furnished room where Molly was sitting at the piano practising a new song. She jumped up gaily directly she saw him. "Oh, how nice of you, Tony," she exclaimed. "You are ten minutes early and I'm fearfully hungry. Lunch as soon as it's ready, Claudine." She gave Tony her hand which he raised gallantly to his lips. "You are looking very beautiful this morning, Molly," he said. "You remind me of one of those things that come out of ponds." "What do you mean?" asked Molly. "Frogs?" "No," said Tony, "not frogs. Those sort of jolly wet girls with nothing on; what do you call them--naiads, isn't it?" Molly burst into a ripple of laughter. "I don't think that's much of a compliment to my frock, Tony," she said. "It was specially designed for me by Jay's too! Don't you like it?" Tony stepped back and inspected her critically. "It's wonderful," he said. "I should imagine Mr. Jay was now prostrate with nervous exhaustion." "Oh, well," replied Molly comfortingly, "he'll have heaps of time to recover before he's paid." The clear note of a silver gong sounded from the passage and she thrust her arm through Tony's. "Come along," she said, "there are roast quails and it would be awful if they got cold, wouldn't it?" Tony gave a slight shudder. "There are some tragedies," he said, "that one hardly likes to think about." All through lunch, which was daintily served in Molly's pretty, sunny little dining-room, they chatted away in the easy cheerful fashion of two people who have no illusions about each other and are yet the firmest of friends. The lunch itself was excellent, and Claudine waited on them with a graceful skill that lent an additional harmony to its progress. "I think I am in love with your new maid," observed Tony thoughtfully, when she at length left them to their coffee and cigarettes. "I am glad you approve of her," said Molly, "but if you haven't seen her before it only shows how disgustingly you must have treated me. She has been here since Christmas." "I like her face," pursued Tony. "It's so pure. She looks as if she had been turned out of a convent for being too good." "She isn't good," said Molly. "Don't you think it."