is by way of being a stick. Who could have
imagined him going in for a high-spirited, brilliant girl like Sara?"

Formerly he had always spoken of Sara as a clever little devil, but
Robert showed no surprise at the new adjective.

"Brilliant!" repeated his lordship. "Don't you agree?"

"Absolutely. She is the most brilliant girl in London."

"But heartless," said his lordship pathetically; "she hasn't one bit of
heart."

"There I don't agree with you. Of course she is strange and rather
wild."

"_Tete-montee._ And then the Asiatic streak!"

"True. The fiercest wind cannot take the angles out of the bough of a
tree an inch thick. You may break it, but you cannot destroy its angles.
That is so, no doubt, with one's racial tendencies. The girl is wilful
and romantic. It will be very bad for them both if there is no love on
her side. She is capable, I should say, of very deep affection."

"She did like me," said his lordship, with emphasis and
satisfaction--"she really did. And I wouldn't encourage it. I had no
notion then of marrying. Her singularity, too, made me cautious. I
couldn't believe in her. She talked like an actress in a play. I felt
that she was not the woman for me. Essentially she thought as I did,
and seemed to comprehend my embarrassment. The worst of it is now--I may
have been wrong."

"I doubt it. You may be sure, on the whole, that your instincts were
right."

"Still, there is a distinct misgiving. I was drawn toward her, and, when
I made up my mind to put an end to the matter, our friendship was
severely strained. But it was not broken. Something I saw in her face
to-day makes me sure that it was not broken."

While he was speaking the servant entered with a salver, and on the
salver was a note. The address showed Sara's large, defiant
hand-writing. Reckage, who had a touch of superstition in his nature,
changed colour and even hesitated before he broke the seal. The
coincidence seemed extraordinary and fatal. What did it mean? He read
the letter with an irresistible feeling of proud delight.

"20A, ST. JAMES'S SQUARE, W.

"MY DEAR BEAUCLERK,--Will you lunch with us to-morrow at two o'clock?
Papa has invited a friend--a dreadful, boring friend--who has been
absent from England for five years. Do you know the man? Sir Piers
Harding? But I want some one to encourage me. You? Do!

"Yours sincerely,

"S. L. V. DE TREVERELL.

"P.S.--I am so happy about you and Agnes. Be kind to her alwa