"Well, you have seen enough to form some opinion of her. I should dearly like to know what that is." Miss Crichton looked at him quizzically. "Oh, the artfulness of you men! Do you think I don't see that you are trying to draw me? Well, I have formed the same conclusion that you have--she is very beautiful, and, from a man's point of view, has a subtle charm. Will that content you?" Hugh regarded her with a smile as quizzical as her own. "No, I'm afraid it won't. Now, look here, we are very old friends," he said persuasively, "and I am pretty near as discreet as you are, I never repeat what is told me in confidence. I should like to put a plain question to you." "Put it: I don't promise to answer it, you know." "Of course not. But I am very much interested in this strange marriage of Guy's. And, please don't think I am laying it on with a trowel, but I have very great faith in your judgment, I would trust it more than I would that of nine-tenths of the women I know." Of course she knew he was flattering her to obtain his purpose; but then--was the most sensible woman absolutely impervious to flattery? "Ask me your question," she answered briefly. Hugh sank his voice to a whisper. "We hear a great deal about her reticence as to the past. Do you think, in a few words, that Stella Spencer is a good and straight woman in the general sense in which we understand the expression?" For a moment Miss Crichton hesitated, then she looked him straight in the face. He had compelled her to a most unusual frankness. "You will, of course, never breathe a word of this to anybody. Suppose I say I refuse to reply to your question. Will you take that refusal as the answer you really want?" "I will--a thousand thanks. The subject is closed between us," was Hugh's grateful reply. A diversion was caused by the approach of Guy Spencer. "Hugh, old man, I am aching for a long crack with you. Come and dine quietly with us next week. I suggest Tuesday if that will suit you?" "Perfectly; I am free on Tuesday, Guy." "Right, then. But to make sure, if Miss Crichton will excuse us, we will go over to Stella and see if I have forgotten something, if we are free that night. I can't always carry these things in my head." They crossed over to the beautiful young woman, who was sustaining a somewhat listless conversation with her young hostess. "Stella," cried her husband, "I have asked Hugh to dine with us on Tuesday. My recollection is that we have nothing on for that night. But I thought you had better confirm it. You carry these things in your head so much better than I do." Young Mrs Spencer smiled at Hugh her sweet smile, and as she did so her likeness to Norah Burton was overwhelming, the Norah Burton who had smiled at him in just the same way six years ago, in the tea-shop at Blankfield. "We are quite free, Major Murchison, and shall be delighted to see you."