"Bond Street? How revolting! Is that your ambition?" "Why, I think it would be very nice. I must do something. Father's settled about it. First I'm going to pay to learn it, and then I shall earn quite a lot. It's a great hairdresser's." "I think it's horrible, Gladys. Perhaps you'll fall in love with a German hairdresser, and be lost to me for ever." "I shan't fall in love with no foreigners, don't you fret." "I'm not fretting. Will you have your hair done up?" he asked, lifting the long plait. "Well, of course I shall, and waved, and that." "Gladys, they'll spoil you." The conversation went on in this strain for some time. She alternately repeated the exclamation, "How you do go on!" or accused him of the mysterious crime of being a caution, but she never stopped looking perfectly beautiful and seraphic. When they went back to the garden a few other visitors had straggled in. They all seemed to come in high dog-carts, and they always ordered eggs, jam, and watercress with their tea, and were immensely impressed by the Persian pheasants. Vaughan went back to London feeling refreshed, and already, strangely, counting the days till he could come back. There was not a woman in the world he knew whom he would have taken the slightest trouble to see except Gladys, the innkeeper's daughter. She was an illiterate schoolgirl; and though she had a lovely face, she was stupid, and probably not so angelic as she looked; but he always felt a little disappointed as he drove back. He wished she were in love with him. And this ungratified wish was, in all his full life with its brilliant success, perhaps his greatest real pleasure. CHAPTER XXIV THE GREEN GATE When Harry came down to breakfast, a little late, he found Valentia waiting to pour out his coffee, and some letters on his plate. She watched him as he opened them. Most of them looked like bills. On the envelope of one was a little blue flag. Harry put this letter in his pocket, and went on eating. "It's a lovely morning, Harry. So fresh; just the sort of day not to do anything at all." "Ah! that's what's so delightful about you all," he answered. "You never say, 'What shall we do?' and neither of you have ever said yet that this is Liberty Hall, which means, as a rule, in a country house, 'Breakfast at eight o'clock sharp, you won't mind it being a little cold if you're late, and then we are going for a motor drive at 9.30.' Still, I think, perhaps, one ought to take a little exercise. I feel almost equal to a game of croquet this afternoon--later on--when I'm stronger. Is any one coming down to-day?" "No. And only Van Buren, and Vaughan and Muir Howard on Sunday. I see you've heard from the Walmers. What do they say?" "It's sure to be nothing of interest. How I love your hair parted on one side! It makes you look like a boy." "Not a principal boy, I hope. Why not read the letter?" Harry got up and fetched himself something from the sideboard.