After he had departed. Nan had the nervous desire to fling up all the windows and to go through the house with a duster. It wasn't snobbishness on her part, but she was unaccustomed to see fingers squeezed and kisses exchanged in public. Barrington found her in the drawing-room and slipped his hand into hers. “It's as I thought; Riska's not in love with him. Her mother's trained her to believe that the first man to come should be the first man accepted. And, d'you know, Nan----?” “What, Billy?” “Didn't you notice anything? She's pretty and she's sweet, because she's young; but already she's getting hard and calculating like Jehane. I'm afraid for her--she's more passion than her mother ever had. She's ripe fruit, and not sixteen yet; if she isn't plucked, she'll fall to the ground.---- It's a horrible thing to say of a young girl.” And then, “I don't like him; but I hope he marries her.” He didn't marry her; Peter and Glory were blamed for that. Without telling anyone, they arranged to give Ocky a Christmas treat. What form the treat was to take caused many secret discussions. They had to be secret--all Glory's dealings with her stepfather were secret; the mention of his name was forbidden by her mother. “How about a theatre?” Peter suggested. Glory shook her quiet head. “He's not very intellectual.” “Well, a pantomime?” Glory nodded. “I believe he'd like that.” So once again she set out alone with her tall cousin on the top of a bus. For a few brief hours he was to be hers entirely. In anticipating the adventure, she had racked her brains to think of entertaining subjects to talk about. She was terribly afraid she would bore him; she believed him to be so extraordinarily clever. She needn't have worried. He was a big boy on that winter's afternoon and not a man. Directly they were out of sight of the Terrace, he took her arm. “But Peter!” she protested, her face flushing. “Don't be a little silly,” he told her; “you'll slip on the snow and fall down.------ I say, Glory, you do look ripping. How you have got yourself up! You've put on everything except the parlor sofa.” At Topbury Corner he wanted to take a hansom, but she insisted on a bus. “No, really. I prefer it. I've a reason--yes. But I wouldn't tell you what it is for worlds.”