"Mortimer, you're ungallant! What has poor Aurora ever done to you?" She turned in her chair, looked at him, and then burst into laughter. He watched her with a puzzled frown. He never knew exactly how to take Patricia when she laughed at him. "If you only knew how funny you look, Mort, dear. There's a smudge of soap on the end of your nose and you look like a charlotte russe." She rose slowly, put her fingers on his arm, and looked up into his eyes with a very winning expression. "Don't be silly, dear," she said, softly. "You know you said you weren't going to doubt me again--ever. I know what I'm about. I have a duty, a sacred duty to perform and you're going to take your share of it." "A duty?" She nodded. "You're not to know until it's all over. You mustn't question, you're to be good and do exactly what I tell you to do. Won't you, Mort? There, I knew you would. It's such a little thing to do." She leaned as close to him as she could without getting soap on her face. "I'll tell you a secret if you'll promise to be nice. I don't like the man--really I don't--not at all." He looked in her eyes and believed her. "You always get your way in the end, don't you?" he said, after a pause. "Of course I do. What would be the _use_ of a way, if one didn't _have_ it?" That seemed unanswerable logic, so Crabb grinned. "You're a queer one, Patty," which, as Patricia knew, meant that she was the most extraordinary and wonderful of persons. So she smiled at the back of his head as he went out because she agreed with him. CHAPTER XVIII Patricia's dinner drew to its delectable close, and coffee had already been served when the butler went to the front door and brought back a telegram on a silver tray. Patricia picked it up and turned it over daintily. "For you, Aurora," she said. Aurora with apologies tore open the envelope and read, her brow clouding. "I hope it's nothing serious," said Patricia, sweetly sympathetic. Aurora rose hurriedly. "I don't know," she said dubiously, and then reading: "'Aunt Jane sick, motor over this evening if possible.' There's no signature. I suppose I'll have to go." Her lip protruded childishly. "How tiresome!" "It's very inconsiderate of her, isn't it?" said Patricia. The look of incomprehension still lingered on the young girl's face. "I can't see what she wants of me," she murmured. "Perhaps she's seriously ill," Patricia volunteered. "Perhaps--yes, I must go, of course. But how can I?" "Mortimer," Patricia provided the cue. "I'll drive you, Aurora," said Crabb. "And Louis?" DeLaunay made no sign. "I will take care of the Monsieur DeLaunay, dear. Do you think you could trust me?" Aurora's lips said, "Of course," but her eyes winked rapidly several times as she adapted her mind to the situation. The decision reached, DeLaunay stepped forward. "If you wish that I should go----" "Quite unnecessary," put in Patricia, quickly. "If your aunt Jane is sick, Aurora----"