."

"Most men are chumps."

"It's so wonderful that it happened to be you. Suppose it had been an
utter stranger! What could I have done?"

"It would have been the same thing. You would have won him over in two
minutes. Nobody could resist you."

"That's very sweet of you."

"I can't help telling the truth. Washington was just the same."

"Then you don't mind Uncle Chris giving his dinner-party here
to-night?"

"He has my blessing."

"You really are an angel," said Jill gratefully. "From what he said, I
think he looks on it as rather an important function. He has invited a
very rich woman, who has been showing him a lot of hospitality--a Mrs.
Peagrim...."

"Mrs. Waddesleigh Peagrim?"

"Yes? Why, do you know her?"

"Quite well. She goes in a good deal for being Bohemian and knowing
people who write and paint and act and so on. That reminds me. I gave
Freddie Rooke a letter of introduction to her."

"Freddie Rooke!"

"Yes. He suddenly made up his mind to come over. He came to me for
advice about the journey. He sailed a couple of days before I did. I
suppose he's somewhere in New York by now, unless he was going on to
Florida. He didn't tell me what his plans were."

Jill was conscious of a sudden depression. Much as she liked Freddie,
he belonged to a chapter in her life which was closed and which she
was trying her hardest to forget. It was impossible to think of
Freddie without thinking of Derek, and to think of Derek was like
touching an exposed nerve. The news that Freddie was in New York
shocked her. New York had already shown itself a city of chance
encounters. Could she avoid meeting Freddie?

She knew Freddie so well. There was not a dearer or a better-hearted
youth in the world, but he had not that fine sensibility which pilots
a man through the awkwardnesses of life. He was a blunderer. Instinct
told her that, if she met Freddie, he would talk of Derek, and, if
thinking of Derek was touching an exposed nerve, talking of him would
be like pressing on that nerve with a heavy hand. She shivered.

Wally was observant.

"There's no need to meet him if you don't want to," he said.

"No," said Jill doubtfully.

"New York's a large place. By the way," he went on, "to return once
more to the interesting subject of my lodger, does your uncle sleep
here at nights, do you know?"

Jill looked at him gratefully. He was no blunderer. Her desire to
avoid Freddie Rooke was, he gave her tacitly to und