Hope's reply was a clear, ringing, irresistible laugh. Then she said, "It's high time I went to balls, I see. I will go to Mrs. Kingfisher's. But, dear aunt, have you seriously believed such a story?" "Do I think my son is a liar?" replied Mrs. Dinks, sardonically. The laugh faded from Hope's face. "Did he say so?" asked she. "Certainly he did." "Alfred Dinks told you I was engaged to him?" "Alfred Dinks told me you were engaged to him." They drove on for some time without speaking. "What does he mean by using my name in that way?" said Hope, with the Diana look in her eyes. "Oh! that you must settle with him," replied the other. "I'm sure I don't know." And Field-marshal Mrs. Dinks settled herself back upon the seat and said no more. Hope Wayne sat silent and erect by her side. CHAPTER XXXI. AT DELMONICO'S. Lawrence Newt had watched with the warmest sympathy the rapid development of the friendship between Amy Waring and Hope Wayne. He aided it in every way. He called in the assistance of Arthur Merlin, who was in some doubt whether his devotion to his art would allow him to desert it for a moment. But as the doubt only lasted while Lawrence Newt was unfolding a plan he had of reading books aloud with the ladies--and--in fact, a great many other praiseworthy plans which all implied a constant meeting with Miss Waring and Miss Wayne, Mr. Merlin did not delay his co-operation in all Mr. Newt's efforts. And so they met at Amy Waring's house very often and pretended to read, and really did read, several books together aloud. Ostensibly poetry was pursued at the meetings of what Lawrence Newt called the Round Table. "Why not? We have our King Arthur, and our Merlin the Enchanter," he said. "A speech from Mr. Merlin," cried Amy, gayly, while Hope looked up from her work with encouraging, queenly eyes. Arthur looked at them eagerly. "Oh, Diana! Diana!" he thought, but did not say. That was the only speech he made, and nobody heard it. The meetings of the Round Table were devoted to poetry, but of a very practical kind. It was pure romance, but without any thing technically romantic. Mrs. Waring often sat with the little party, and, as she worked, talked with Lawrence Newt of earlier days--"days when you were not born, dears," she said, cheerfully, as if to appropriate Mr. Newt. And whenever she made this kind of allusion Amy's work became very intricate indeed, demanding her closest attention. But Hope Wayne, remembering her first evening in his society, raised her eyes again with curiosity, and as she did so Lawrence smiled kindly and gravely, and his eyes hung upon hers as if he saw again what he had thought never to see; while Hope resolved that she would ask him under what circumstances he had known Pinewood. But the opportunity had not yet arrived. She did not wish to ask before the others. There are some secrets that we involuntarily respect, while we only know that they are secrets.