elf the right to do precisely as he chose,
irrespective of convention--or of other people's feelings.

Meanwhile Stair was twinkling humorously across at his visitor.

"If you can bear to eat your dinner without being encased in the
regulation starch," he said, "I don't think I should advise risking what
remains of it by any further delay."

"Then I accept with pleasure," replied Errington.

As he spoke, his eyes sought Diana's once again. It almost seemed as
though they pleaded with her for understanding. The half-sad,
half-bitter mouth smiled faintly, the smile accentuating that upward
curve at the corners of the lips which lent such an unexpected sweetness
to its stern lines.

Diana looked away quickly, refusing to endorse the Rector's invitation,
and, escaping to her own room, she made a hasty toilet, slipping into a
simple little black gown open at the throat. Meanwhile, she tortured
herself with questioning as to why--if all that had passed meant nothing
to him--he had chosen to stay. Once she hid her burning face in her
hands as the memory of those kisses rushed over her afresh, sending
little, new, delicious thrills coursing through her veins. Then once
more the maddening doubt assailed her--were they but a bitter humiliation
which she would remember for the rest of her life?

When she came downstairs again, Max Errington and Stair were conversing
happily together, evidently on the best of terms with themselves and each
other. Errington was speaking as she entered the room, but he stopped
abruptly, biting his words off short, while his keen eyes swept over the
slim, black-gowned figure hesitating in the doorway.

"Mr. Stair has been pledging your word during your absence," he said.
"He has promised that you'll sing to us after dinner."

"I? Oh"--nervously--"I don't think I want to sing this evening."

"Why not? Have the"--he made an infinitesimal pause, regarding her the
while with quizzical eyes--"events of the afternoon robbed you of your
voice?"

Diana gave him back his look defiantly. How dared he--oh, how dared
he?--she thought indignantly.

"My adventures weren't serious enough for that," she replied composedly.

The ghost of a smile flickered across his face.

"Then you will sing?" he persisted.

"Yes, if you like."

He nodded contentedly, and as they went in to dinner he whispered:--

"I found the adventure--rather serious."

Dinner passed pleasantly enough. Errington and St