"I have never been allowed to do anything for anybody yet," said Isabel contentedly. "I have got a lot of lost time to make up." Tony took her hands, which she now surrendered to him without any trace of the slight embarrassment that had formerly marked their relationship. "You are only just beginning life, Isabel," he said. "You have all the advantage of being born suddenly at eighteen. It's much the nicest arrangement, really, because no intelligent person ever enjoys their childhood or schooldays." He released her hands, and glanced across at the clock on the mantelpiece. "It's time you went to bed," he added. "We'll talk about our adventure in the morning. One should always have a good night's rest after shooting off anybody's ear. It steadies the nerves." "All right," said Isabel obediently. "I don't suppose they will try again to-night, do you?" Tony shook his head. "No," he replied; "otherwise I would stay here and sleep on the mat." He took up his hat off the table. "Try and get packed by eleven if you can manage it. I will come round and call for you with the Peugot: your things will just go nicely into the back." He paused. "Good-night, Isabel, dear." She looked up at him with that frank, trustful smile of hers. "Good-night, Tony, dear," she said. * * * * * * * It was exactly a quarter to one the next day, when the second curate at St. Peter's, Eaton Square, whose mind was full of a sermon that he was composing, stepped carelessly off the pavement into the roadway. This rash act very nearly ended any chances of his becoming a bishop, for a large travel-stained car that was coming along Holbein Place at a considerable speed, only just swerved out of his path by the fraction of an inch. With an exclamation that sounded extraordinarily like "dammit" the curate leaped back on to the pavement, and turning down Chester Square, the car pulled up in front of Lady Jocelyn's. Tony and Isabel stepped out, and with a certain air of satisfaction the former glanced round the comparatively deserted landscape. "I think we have baffled them, Isabel," he said, "unless that curate was a spy." Isabel laughed. "He was very nearly a corpse," she remarked. The door of the house opened, emitting two of Lady Jocelyn's trim maids, who were evidently expecting their arrival. Tony assisted them to collect the luggage and carry it into the house, and then following one of them upstairs, he and Isabel were ushered into the drawing-room, where Lady Jocelyn was waiting to receive them. "This is Isabel, Aunt Fanny," he said. Lady Jocelyn took in the rightful Queen of Livadia with one of her shrewd, kindly glances. "My dear," she said, "you are very pretty. Come and sit down." Isabel, smiling happily, seated herself on the sofa beside her hostess, while Tony established himself on the hearth-rug in front of the fireplace.