"Well--if you want to know..." he smiled. "No--I'd better not." He checked himself mischievously, studying her face. "Jill, I suppose, or, perhaps, Roddy?--I sent that young rascal a hamper lately--I expect he's been deceiving you! I only do it because, as it happens, Mrs. Belsey likes cooking. And I don't eat cakes myself--so it pleases her--and I hate waste!" "No. Roddy's been most discreet!" He paused, then risked it, laughing. "I guessed it from your beautiful hands! There's such a lot of character to be learnt from hands----" he went on calmly, enjoying her indignant surprise. "I always judge people by them, and I'm never very far wrong!" "You're a very impertinent young man!" The smile she could no longer repress robbed the words of their sting--"Now before I answer your ... rigmarole--I want to think." McTaggart nodded. He was well pleased with his mission and he felt a personal interest in this singular new acquaintance, with her sharp tongue and kind eyes. Absently, from a black silk bag, Miss Uniacke drew a bundle of wool and began to knit rapidly, thinking aloud, between the stitches. "Three, four, five, purl--the woman's an utter fool--always told Edward so!--seven, eight, drop one. But there's the girl to consider--twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen--dirty house, no management--nineteen, twenty, knit one, turn..." Silence fell in the darkening room. Then from behind the sofa came the startling sound of a noisy kiss. McTaggart wheeled round in wonder. "Pret-ty Polly--give-us-a-kiss!" followed by a grave "A-men." The grey parrot, upside down, clinging to his narrow perch, let out a mocking laugh. Miss Uniacke knitted on. "Seven, eight--strong soup--nine, purl--some good old port--ridiculous! a child of that age--ten, eleven, wants air--drop one--and nine hours sleep. Pity they let her out of prison--fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, turn--If I had my way I'd shave their heads. Soon cure this Suffrage nonsense--Three, four----" McTaggart felt a wild desire to laugh aloud, as from the window the parrot indulged in a hoarse and fervent "Damn!" "Oh!" Miss Uniacke rose to her feet. "You _bad_ bird. You shall go to bed----" She seized a green baize cloth and threw it nimbly over the cage. "I can't _think_ where he learns these words." At the shocked note in her voice McTaggart straightened his face. "I expect he lived with a Suffragette before he came to you," he suggested--"and once they get the fever, you know, it's all up with their morals. He'll be out breaking windows next!" Miss Uniacke chuckled grimly. "Well----" she laid her knitting down and folded her slim white hands. "I've made up my mind, Mr. McTaggart. I can't allow Jill to suffer. I'm much obliged for your kind offer but there's a better way by far. I shall go and look after Mary myself." She said it with an air of triumph.