'Dacre's wife isn't strong enough to face the sand, and you must have a chaperon--I mean another lady--you never need a chaperon of course, my dear--but if anything happened--besides, we shall be very busy, and it will be lonely--I thought it better than leaving you at home--it isn't as if she were quite an outsider--she is Gordon's cousin, and he is my personal----' 'The widow of a cousin, you mean,' she interrupted with emphasis. 'A cousin he scarcely knew; and he never even saw _her_ till he returned from furlough last year.' 'Didn't he, my dear?' said the Colonel feebly. 'Still, they are relations. Call each other by their Christian names, and----' This time a laugh interrupted him; rather a hard laugh for a girl. 'What a number of cousins the Rajpore ladies must have!' she began. 'Not Mrs. Boynton, Rose; not Mrs. Boynton,' protested the Colonel with spirit. 'No, I admit it. She is perfectly lady-like. I don't really dislike her a bit.' 'Dislike! my dear Rose! who could dislike so--so----' 'I admit it again, father. She is charming. I catch myself watching her, just as if I were in love with her like all the nice men are.' 'Really, my dear Rose----' 'Well, dear, why not? She is perfectly sweet. Then she has such tact. Do you know she never allows an ungentlemanly man to fall in love with her? I often wonder how she manages it. It's awfully clever of her.' Rose, standing by the fire, shifted a log with her foot and the sparks flew upwards. 'Of course I would rather have had a girl; but I suppose it wouldn't have done. There! don't worry, dear! Go off to your whist. I'll settle it all.' 'My dear girl----' She told him calmly that there was no need for gratitude, and Colonel James Tweedie, R.E., head of a great Department, slunk away abashed to the card-room. Rose was very fond of her father, though she understood him perfectly--after the manner of modern children; accepting him reasonably, with all his weaknesses, as the parent Providence had assigned to her. And why, if she would have him, should he not marry Mrs. Boynton? The mother, who had died when Rose was born, had been well remembered; the Colonel was still middle-aged, and when his daughter married might have long years of solitude before him. Would it be fair for her to object? It was another of Rose Tweedie's characteristics that this question came uppermost in her dealings with both friends and foes. No! it would not be fair; there was no reason against it. None. So she walked off calmly to the big hall, waiting to see Gwen Boynton's graceful figure--paired with some worthy partner, of course--come swaying out into the ring of light. But she was disappointed; for the very simple reason that the lady she sought was sitting with Lewis Gordon in the most comfortable corner in the whole building.