"I have not forgotten that," observed Otterburn quietly. "Candour is such a wonderful thing to meet with now-a-days, that anyone with such a virtue is sure to be remembered." "For nine days, I suppose? she said jestingly. "Yes! or eighteen months," he responded meaningly. Otterburn was evidently as audacious as ever in trespassing upon dangerous ground, so Victoria, although her heart beat rapidly at his last remark, deftly turned the conversation as she used to do in the old days. "You have an excellent memory, Mr. Macjean," she said gaily, "but you have forgotten that I have been standing for the last ten minutes, that you have not asked me to have a cup of tea, and that I'm both tired and thirsty." "A thousand pardons," said Otterburn, penitently offering his arm. "I plead guilty! As you are strong, be merciful." "To your failings, certainly! I've got too many of my own to refuse absolution. Oh, there's Miss Lossins going to sing. I can't bear these drawing-room songs, so let us go at once." She took his arm, and as they moved downstairs he felt a thrill run through his body at the light pressure of her hand. He felt inclined to speak boldly then and there, but a vague fear of the result withheld him, and in the presence of the woman he loved, Angus Macjean, man of the world as he was, felt like an awkward schoolboy. On her part, Victoria felt that she still had an influence on his life, and derived from this instinctive feeling a wonderful amount of pleasure, which could only have been engendered in her breast by a sentiment of reciprocity. Owing to some ridiculous feeling of pride, neither of them referred to Como during the whole of their conversation, as their parting at that place had been so painful, and although they were both thinking about it yet they talked of everything in the world except what was uppermost in their minds. They had thought of, dreamt of, loved, and desired one another all through these weary eighteen months, and now when they were together and a word would have removed all misunderstandings, neither the man nor the woman had the courage to utter it. At present, however, they were downstairs indulging in the slight dissipation of afternoon tea, and Victoria, knowing that Otterburn was still her admirer, was quite at her ease, talking gaily about everything and everyone. "This is awfully nice tea," she said, nodding her head to the Master. "Why don't you try some?" "I will, on your recommendation," he replied, taking a cup the maid was holding out, "but won't you have some cake?" "If there's some very curranty cake, I will," said Miss Sheldon gluttonously. "I'll have the brown outside piece." "Why should that be more desirable than any other piece?" said Macjean as she took it. "More currants in it! I'm fond of currants." "So it seems." "Now don't be severe. Let's talk about something else. Mr. Gartney, for instance." "Oh, he's here to-day."