"Well, look at 'em," he said contemptuously, and they both laughed. Lady Lorme rose at that moment from the table, and Mr. Devenish, pleading the distance he had to travel, took his departure. "I have enjoyed myself very much, Challoner," he said as the colonel came out with him to-the doorway. "I can't tell you how glad I am that I thought of dropping in upon you for luncheon. I am going back to London now. Good-by." He mounted into his car and drove gaily off. In the dining-room behind him, the sandy-haired man was saying over and over again to the dismayed conspirators-- "He'll sell us a pup. He'll sell us a pup. I'll bet you a monkey, he'll sell us a pup." That night, when the men went upstairs, Rames passing from his dressing-room into his wife's bedroom found her still up and sitting by her fire. "We go back to-morrow, Cynthia. It has been a long week. I hope you haven't been bored." "No," she said. "I haven't." "What do you think of them? Will they run away when the fight comes?" "Not all," said Cynthia. "But even of those who stay with you, there's not one who is a match for Mr. Devenish." She spoke with some warmth in her voice. "You like him?" said Harry Rames. "I think he's a big man," she replied. Rames, who was standing looking into her mirror, suddenly swung round. "Shall I tell you why you say that, Cynthia?" "Yes." "Because he's the only man except myself who has noticed your likeness to that very pretty girl on the wall of the dining-room. I heard him mention it to you at luncheon." He burst out into a laugh as he spoke; and in a moment or two Cynthia joined in the laugh. So Harry Rames too had noticed the resemblance. She laughed and her eyes laughed with her lips. "After all," said Harry Rames, "we get some fun out of it, don't we, Cynthia?" "Yes," said Cynthia and her laughter died away. "We get some fun out of it, Harry. That's just what we do get"; and her eyes turned away from him to the fire. CHAPTER XXVII DEVENISH REPLIES Captain Rames had arranged to travel by a train which ran directly into Warwickshire through the outskirts of London. It left Wareham at mid-day, some two hours later than the fast London trains, and though Cynthia had wished to escape in all the hurry of the general departure, she had found no sufficient reason. She and her husband were thus the last of that company at Bramling, and when all but they had gone, Colonel Challoner turned from the front door whence he had been speeding his guests, and invited her to walk with him in the garden. Cynthia in a flurry began to search for excuses, and before she found one realized that the moment for excuses had already gone. She turned and walked with Colonel Challoner into the red-walled garden where his fruit and flowers grew. The half-hour which ever since the first evening at Bramling she had intended to avoid was, after all, upon her.