Any one less like a love-lorn maiden than Ann looked at that moment could hardly be imagined. She was wearing a charming frock the colour of a pool of deep green sea-water, with a handful of orange-golden poppies clustered at the waist, and as the lights flickered over her, from the swathed gold-brown of her hair to the tips of her small gold shoes, she was as detail-perfect as a woman who hadn't a single care in life. The simple, appealing black frock generally adopted by the heroine in fiction who has been crossed in love did not allure Ann in the very least. Whatever happened to her, she would always confront the world with a brave face. And even if her small, individual barque of life were hopelessly foundered she would at least go down with colours flying. Nevertheless, to the discerning eye the alteration in her was very palpable. In repose her mouth fell into lines of quiet endurance, and her eyes held a look of deep sadness. But, fortunately for most of us, the discerning eye is a rarity, and in public Ann rarely allowed herself to lapse into one of those moments of abstracted thought when the unguarded expression of the face gives away the secrets of the heart. She greeted Sir Philip with all her old gaiety, and, when he told her she was much too thin, laughed at him gently. "Don't be a fuss-pot, dear godparent," she adjured him. "I was never one of the fat kine, and really I'm very glad of it. You can dress ever so much more economically when you're thin, you know, and that's quite a consideration these days." "Are you--do you mean--look here, Ann," he floundered awkwardly. "Are you hard up?" She laughed outright. "No, of course not. Robin gets a topping good screw, and I'm doing quite a millionaire business in the poultry line." "Humph!" Sir Philip grunted. "Got any clothes fit for London?" She nodded. "Lots. Put away where moth and rust shan't corrupt their morals." "Well, get'm out and come up to Audley Square for a bit. You look--I don't know the word I want--peeked." "It's no use shelving it on to me like that," said Ann teasingly. "What you really mean is that you and Tony are getting awfully bored with each other alone!" A smile glimmered in the depths of the fierce old eyes. "Perhaps that's it. Will you come?" "I'd love to. But you may just as well tell me what's worrying you." "You're an impudent girl! Who said I was worrying?" "Well--perhaps not worrying. But unsettled in mind," conceded Ann. "What's Tony been doing?"--shrewdly. "Getting engaged--or trying to." She laughed. "Pooh! I guessed that--months ago. And I think Lady Doreen's a dear. So you'd better be getting out your consent and furbishing it up so as to give it prettily as soon as it's required. You know you're pleased--really."