She held up a finger at him with the engaging playfulness of old. "How can I be your dear Lady Mariamne, Mr. Tatham, when you won't do a thing I ask you? What, Dolly? Yes, we must go, of course, or I shall not have my nap before dinner. I always have a nap before dinner, for the sake of my complexion, don't you know--my beauty nap, they call it. Now, Mr. Tatham, come to me to-morrow, and you shall give Toto his cream, to show you bear no malice, and tell me all about the boy. Don't be an obstinate pig, Mr. Tatham. Now, I shall look for you--without fail. Shan't we look for him, Dolly?--and Toto will give you a paw and forgive you--and you must tell me all about the boy." CHAPTER XXXV. To tell her all about the boy! John Tatham shovelled his papers into his portfolio, and shut it up with a snap of embarrassment, a sort of confession of weakness. He pushed back his chair with the same sharpness, almost making a noise upon the old Turkey carpet, and he touched his bell so that it sounded with a shrill electric ping, almost like a pistol-shot. Simmons understood all these signs, and he was very sympathetic when he came in to take Mr. Tatham's last orders and help him on with his coat. "Spoilt your evening's work," said Simmons, compassionately. "I knew they would. Ladies never should enter a gentleman's chambers if I could help it. They've got nothing to do in the Temple." "You forget some men in the Temple are married, Simmons." "What does that matter?" said the clerk; "let 'em see their wives at home, sir. What I will maintain is that ladies have no business here." This was a little ungrateful, it must be said, for Simmons probably got off three-quarters of an hour earlier than he would have done had Mr. Tatham remained undisturbed. As it was, John had some ten minutes to wait before his habitual hansom drew up at the door.