He hesitated for a moment, then he smiled. There was something very attractive about his visitor's frank directness of speech and manner. "I refused," he admitted, glancing around to where the Marquis was engaged in conversation with a gardener, "because I didn't want to come." "But I am there, you stupid person!" she reminded him. "You are invited to dine with me! I know you don't get on with Lady Letitia, and I know you don't like large parties, but there are only half a dozen of us there, and I promise you my whole protection. Show me something at once. I want to talk to you. Those Dorothy Perkins roses will do, at the other end of the lawn." He walked in silence by her side. She waited until they were well out of earshot. "David Thain," she said, "have I shown an interest in you or have I not?" "You have been extraordinarily kind," he confessed. "And in return," she continued, "you have decided to avoid me. I won't have it. Are you afraid that I might want you to make love to me?" He shook his head. "I am sure you wouldn't find that amusing," he declared. "In the society of your sex I generally behave pretty well as your brother would do if he were dumped down in an office in Wall Street." "I honestly believe that you are diffident," she admitted. "I never met a millionaire before who was, and at first I thought it was a pose with you. Perhaps I was mistaken. You really don't think, then, that you have any attraction apart from your millions?" "I'm quite sure that I haven't," he answered bitterly. "A love affair!" she exclaimed, looking into his face scrutinisingly. "And I knew nothing of it!--I, your sponsor, your lady confessor, your--well, heaven knows what I might not be if you would only behave decently! A love affair, indeed! That little yellow-haired chit, I suppose, who is down here raving about you all the time--Sylvia What's-her-name?" He smiled. "I know very little of Miss Sylvia Laycey," he said, "beyond the fact that she seems very charming." "I suppose you ought to marry," she continued regretfully. "It seems a pity, but they'll never leave you alone till you do. What is your type, then? Sylvia Laycey is much too young for you. I suppose you know that." "I don't think I have one," he answered. "That's because I am married, of course," she went on. "If you were a sensible man, you would settle down to adore me and not think of anybody else at all. But you won't do it. You'll want to buy palaces and yachts and town houses and theatres, like all the rest of the superfluously rich, and you'll want a musical comedy star to wear your jewels, and a wife to entertain your friends." "Well, you must admit that I haven't been in a hurry about any of these things yet," he observed. She looked at him keenly. "Look here, my young friend," she said, "you haven't made the one mistake I warned you against, have you? You haven't fallen in love with Letitia?" He laughed almost brutally.