her work, and against whom no one had ever had a word to say.
Consequently, the shock was all the greater when, within a fortnight of
her engagement, she was thus to be seen openly supping alone with the
most notorious woman hunter about town--a man of bad reputation, a man,
too, towards whom Sotherst was known to have a special aversion. Nothing
but a break with Sotherst or a fit of temporary insanity seemed to
explain, even inadequately, the situation.

Her best friend--the friend who knew her and believed in her--rose to
her feet and came sailing down the room. She nodded gaily to Abbott,
whom she hated, and whom she had not recognized for years, and laid her
hand upon Letty's arm.

"Where's Brian?" she asked.

Letty shrugged her shoulders--it was not altogether a natural gesture.

"On duty to-night," she answered.

Her best friend paused for a moment.

"Come over and join our party, both of you," she said. "Dicky Pennell's
here and Gracie Marsh--just landed. They'd love to meet you."

Letty shook her head slowly. There was a look in her face which even her
best friend did not understand.

"I'm afraid that we can't do that," she said. "I am Mr. Abbott's guest."

"And to-night," Austen Abbott intervened, looking up at the woman who
stood between them, "I am not disposed to share Miss Shaw with anybody."

Her best friend could do no more than shake her head and go away. The
two were left alone for the rest of the evening. When they departed
together, people who knew felt that a whiff of tragedy had passed
through the room. Nobody understood--or pretended to understand. Even
before her engagement, Letty had never been known to sup alone with
a man. That she should do so now, and with this particular man, was
preposterous!

"Something will come of it," her best friend murmured, sadly, as she
watched Austen Abbott help his companion on with her cloak.

Something did!

Peter Ruff rose at his accustomed time the following morning, and
attired himself, if possible, with more than his usual care. He wore
the grey suit which he had carefully put out the night before, but he
hesitated long between the rival appeals of a red tie with white spots
and a plain mauve one. He finally chose the latter, finding that it
harmonised more satisfactorily with his socks, and after a final survey
of himself in the looking-glass, he entered the next room, where his
coffee was set out upon a small round table near the fire, tog