"I'm here with Ogilvy. May we come to tea?"

"Is Mr. Ogilvy _here_?"

"Yes, here at the Estwich Arms. May I--er--may _he_ bring _me_ over to
call on you?"

"Y-yes. Oh, with pleasure, Mr. Annan.... When may I expect hi--you?"

"In about ten minutes," replied Annan firmly.

Then he went back and looked into Ogilvy's room. Sam was seated, his
head clasped in his hands.

"I thought you _might_ tear up your sheets and let yourself out of the
window," said Annan sarcastically. "You're a fine specimen! Why you're
actually lantern-jawed with fright. But I don't care! Come on; we're
expected to tea! Get into your white flannels and pretty blue coat and
put on your dinkey rah-rah, and follow me. Or, by heaven!--I'll do
murder right now!"

Ogilvy's knees wavered as they entered the gateway.

"Go on!" hissed Annan, giving him a violent shove.

Then, to Ogilvy, came that desperate and hysterical courage that comes
to those whose terrors have at last infuriated them.

"By jinks!" he said with an unearthly smile, "I _will_ come on!"

And he did, straight through the door and into the pretty living room
where Helene d'Enver rose in some slight consternation to receive this
astonishingly pale and rather desperate-faced young man.

"Harry," said Ogilvy, calmly retaining Helene's hand, "you go and play
around the yard for a few moments. I have something to tell the Countess
d'Enver; and then we'll all have tea."

"Mr. Ogilvy!" she said, amazed.

But Annan had already vanished; and she looked into a pair of steady
eyes that suddenly made her quail.

"Helene," he said, "I really do love you."

[Illustration: "'I am scared blue. That's why I'm holding on to your
hand so desperately.'"]

"Please--"

"No! I love you! Are you going to let me?"

"I--how on earth--what a perfectly senseless--"

"I know it. I'm half senseless from fright. Yes, I am, Helene! Now!
here! at this very minute, I am scared blue. That's why I'm holding on
to your hand so desperately; I'm afraid to let go."

She flushed brightly with annoyance, or something or other--but he held
fast to her hand and put one arm around her waist.

"Sam!" she said, exasperated. That was the last perfectly coherent word
she uttered for several minutes. And, later, she was too busy to say
very much.

* * * * *

When Annan returned, Helene rose from the couch where she and Ogilvy had
been seated and came across the floor, blushing