"Been viewing the marvels upstairs, Miss Raby?" he said easily, as she shook hands with Miss Panton. "Take this comfortable chair, won't you? It must be an exhausting job." "No, have this; you'll find it much nicer," said Laura, laughing. But as they stood together, making much of Caroline, she saw that the chair Wilson had indicated was evidently one sacred to himself. The long, low seat, and the small table near containing cigarettes, ash-trays, pipes, and other conveniences, all pointed to the same care on the part of these two women. Caroline sat down on the chair offered by Laura and crossed her feet with aggressive nonchalance because she was feeling nervous. "Anyway, this is a good deal different to mine on the prom.," she said, suddenly anxious to let Miss Panton clearly understand that she was the girl on the promenade, and not Miss Wilson's servant. Miss Panton looked at her over the teacups and said: "Sugar? Bilk?" with the catarrh very much in evidence. "I didn't tell you, Miss Raby, did I, that Miss Panton has given me a foot-muff for the car?" said Laura, speaking rather quickly, conscious of some odd constraint in the air. "We are going for a motor tour in the Lake District for our honeymoon. Every one says it is ideal in September. I have never been, oddly enough." "Well, the glut of honeymooning couples in the Lakes is now a thing of the past," said Wilson, smiling at his future bride. "There was a time when a certain hotel at Windermere swarmed with them, I believe. Everybody looking out of their eye-corners at breakfast time to see if she knew how many lumps of sugar he took in his coffee." Miss Panton murmured something about Wordsworth, obviously thinking that a more fitting topic to be discussed before a young person who was taking tea on sufferance with her betters. "Perhaps Miss Raby is like me, and doesn't care much for Wordsworth," said Laura, looking across at her guest in a very friendly fashion. "I never got beyond 'We are seven,' and never wanted to." "It's never too late to bend," retorted Miss Panton, still austere; her glance resting with deep disapproval upon the neatly stockinged leg which Caroline displayed. "Come, Nanty," said Laura, laughing. "Don't be so superior. You know you don't really care for anything but a love-story with a happy ending yourself." She paused, looking round at them with her happy, brown eyes: "Well, there isn't anything better: is there?" "Of course not," said Wilson, just touching Laura's shoulder as he passed her in handing the cake to Caroline. But as he did so his glance met Caroline's by chance, and he became instantly aware that she had been watching him, for she looked hastily away, while a colour which she could not control came into her cheeks, deepening and deepening until it almost brought tears to her eyes.