by Jenny--in a flattering way. But it was impossible to be safe
with him--there was no telling how his temper would take him. So long as
he believed that Jenny herself best liked to see him intimately, all
would go well; but if once he struck on the truth--that she was yielding
deference to the wishes of his enemies, her neighbors--there might very
probably be an explosion. "Volcano" would get active if he thought that
"Rabbit" and company--Jenny had concealed neither nickname from
him--were being consulted. Or he might get just a wayward whim; if his
temper were out, he would make trouble for its own sake--or to see with
how much he could make her put up; each was always trying the limits of
his or her power over the other.

The actual occasion of his outburst was, as usual, trivial, and
perhaps--far as that was from being invariably the case--afforded him
some shadow of excuse. Neither did Chat help matters. He had sent up
from Hatcham Ford a bunch of splendid yellow roses, and, when he came to
dinner the same evening, he naturally expected to see them on the table.
"Where are my roses?" he asked abruptly, when we were half-way through
dinner.

"I love them--they're beautiful--but they didn't suit my frock
to-night," said Jenny, smiling. She would have managed the matter all
right if she had been let alone, but Chat must needs put her oar in.

"They'll look splendid on the table to-morrow night," she remarked--as
though she were saying something soothing and tactful.

"Oh, you've got a dinner-party to-morrow?" he asked--still calm, but
growing dangerous.

"Nobody you'd care about," Jenny assured him; she had given Chat a look
which immediately produced symptoms of flutters.

"Who's coming?"

"Oh, only Lord Fillingford and Lady Sarah, the Wares, the Rector, the
Aspenicks, and one or two more."

"H'm. My roses are good enough for that lot, but I'm not, eh?"

Jenny's hand was forced; Chat had undermined her position. Not even for
the sake of policy did she love to do an unhandsome thing--still less to
be found out in doing one. To use the roses and slight the donor would
not be handsome. She knew Aspenick's objection to meeting Octon, but
probably she thought that she could keep Aspenick in order.

"I had no idea you'd care about it. I thought you liked coming quietly
better. I like it so much better when I can have you to myself."

No use now! His prickles were out; he would not be cajoled.

"So I may as