"I think we had better go in here, darling," she said to Madame Piriac, with her hand on the French window. "There is no other entrance." Madame Piriac looked at her. "_Eh bien!_ It is your country, not mine. You know the habits. I follow you," said Madame Piriac calmly. "After all, my dear little Audrey ought to be delighted to see me. I have several times told her that I should come. All the same, I expected to announce myself.... What a charming room! So this is the English provinces!" The room was certainly agreeable to the eye. And Audrey seemed to see it afresh, to see it for the first time in her life. And she thought: "Can this be the shabby old drawing-room that I hated so?" The kettle continued to puff vigorously. "If they don't come soon," said Audrey, "the water will be all boiled away and the kettle burnt. Suppose we make the tea?" Madame Piriac raised her eyebrows. "It is your country," she repeated. "That appears to be singular, but I have not the English habits." And she sat down, smiling. Audrey opened the tea caddy, put three spoonfuls of tea into the pot, and made the tea. The clock struck on the mantelpiece. The clock was actually going. Aguilar was ever thorough in his actions. "Four minutes to brew, and if they don't come we'll have tea," said Audrey, tranquil in the assurance that the advent of Aguilar could not now be long delayed. "Do you take milk and sugar, darling?" she asked Madame Piriac at the end of the four minutes, which they had spent mainly in a curious silence. "I believe you do." Madame Piriac nodded. "A little bread-and-butter? I'm sorry there's no cake or jam." It was while Madame Piriac was stirring her first cup that the drawing-room door opened, and at once there was a terrific shriek. "Audrey!" The invader was Miss Ingate. Close behind Miss Ingate came Jane Foley. CHAPTER XXXIV THE TANK-ROOM "Did you get my letter?" breathed Miss Ingate weakly, after she had a little recovered from the shock, which had the appearance of being terrific. "No," said Audrey. "How could I? We're yachting. Madame Piriac, you know Miss Ingate, don't you? And this is my friend Jane Foley." She spoke quite easily and naturally, though Miss Ingate in her intense agitation had addressed her as Audrey, whereas the Christian name of Mrs. Moncreiff, on the rare occasions when a Christian name became necessary or advisable, had been Olivia--or, infrequently, Olive. "Yachting!" "Yes. Haven't you seen the yacht at the Hard?" "No! I did hear something about it, but I've been too busy to run after yachts. We've been too busy, haven't we, Miss Foley? I even have to keep my dog locked up. I don't know what you'll say. Aud--Mrs. Moncreiff! I really don't! But we acted for the best. Oh! How dreadfully exciting my life does get at times! Never since I played the barrel organ all the way down Regent Street have I--! Oh! dear!"