mpany, and it was clear to Mrs.
Halton that Daisy was certainly beginning to be puzzled, and, poor
child, was beginning to feel hurt and slighted.

But there had been as yet no more than a beginning made; Lord Lindfield
would have to be far more taken up with herself than he was now, and
Daisy, poor dear, would have to be far more deeply wounded and hurt
before the thing was accomplished. And already Mrs. Halton felt sick at
heart about it all. Yet till a better plan could be thought of she had
not to set her teeth, but to smile her best, and flirt, flirt, flirt.

There was but one bright spot in the whole affair, and that the few words
which she had had with Victor early that morning before breakfast. She
had asked him, not pointedly, but in a general way arising out of their
talk, what he would think if in some way she completely puzzled him, and
acted in a manner that was incomprehensible. And he had laughed.

"Why, my darling, what an easy question," he said. "I should know that
there was something behind I didn't understand. I should wait for you to
tell me about it."

"And if I never told you about it?" asked Jeannie.

"Then, dear, I should know you had some good reason for that. But I
should never ask you, I think, and I know I should never cease to trust
you or forget that we are--well, you and me."

That was wine to her.

CHAPTER XVII.

But she liked Lindfield; that made her task so much harder. It was
shameful to treat a man like this, and yet--and yet there was still the
memory of that dreadful gilded house in Paris and the dying voice of
Diana.

So once more, and not for the last time, she settled down to the task
that was so odious--odious because she liked him.

"We shall quarrel, then, I am afraid," she said, "because I want to talk
too. We both want to talk--I to you, you to me."

He leant over her a moment, since the punt-pole had to be grounded at
the stern of the boat, for he had tied the chain in the bow to an
unearthed root of the tree. She leant a little sideways away from him,
and this was done. It was then she gave him the few cushions out of the
two thousand.

"Have you got anything very special to say?" she asked. "Because I have,
and so I shall begin. Yet I don't know if it is special, except that
between friends everything seems to be special."

Again Jeannie could not get on for a moment, but she proceeded without
notable pause.

"The difference between friends and