“We talk of American business outlook,” she said, “but very few of us English people are dreamy idealists. We are of a coolness and a daring--when we are dealing with questions of this sort. I don't think you can know the thing you have brought here. You descend on a dull country place, with your money and your looks, and you simply STAY and amuse yourself by doing extraordinary things, as if there was no London waiting for you. Everyone knows this won't last. Next season you will be presented, and have a huge success. You will be whirled about in a vortex, and people will sit on the edge, and cast big strong lines, baited with the most glittering things they can get together. You won't be able to get away. Lady Alanby knows there would be no chance for Tommy then. It would be too idiotic to expect it. He must make his try now.” Their eyes met again, and Miss Vanderpoel looked neither shocked nor angry, but an odd small shadow swept across her face. Mary, of course, did not know that she was thinking of the thing she had realised so often--that it was not easy to detach one's self from the fact that one was Reuben S. Vanderpoel's daughter. As a result of it here one was indecently and unwillingly disturbing the lives of innocent, unassuming lovers. “And so long as Sir Thomas has not tried--and found out--Lady Jane will be made unhappy?” “If he were to let you escape without trying, he would not be forgiven. His grandmother has had her own way all her life.” “But suppose after I went away someone else came?” Mary shook her head. “People like you don't HAPPEN in one neighbourhood twice in a lifetime. I am twenty-six and you are the first I have seen.” “And he will only be safe if?” Mary Lithcom nodded. “Yes--IF,” she answered. “It's silly--and frightful--but it is true.” Miss Vanderpoel looked down on the grass a few moments, and then seemed to arrive at a decision. “He likes you? You can make him understand things?” she inquired. “Yes.” “Then go and tell him that if he will come here and ask me a direct question, I will give him a direct answer--which will satisfy Lady Alanby.” Lady Mary caught her breath. “Do you know, you are the most wonderful girl I ever saw!” she exclaimed. “But if you only knew what I feel about Janie!” And tears rushed into her eyes. “I feel just the same thing about my sister,” said Miss Vanderpoel. “I think Rosy and Lady Jane are rather alike.” . . . . . When Tommy tramped across the grass towards her he was turning red and white by turns, and looking somewhat like a young man who was being marched up to a cannon's mouth. It struck him that it was an American kind of thing he was called upon to do, and he was not an American, but British from the top of his closely-cropped head to the rather thick soles of his boots. He was, in truth, overwhelmed by his sense of his inadequacy to the demands of the brilliantly conceived, but unheard-of situation. Joy and terror swept over his being in waves.