'Sh!' Mrs. Freddy held up a finger and silenced her little circle. 'They
must have thought I was ringing for toast--somebody's being let in!'

'Let's hope it's Miss Levering,' said Mr. Freddy.

'I must see those young barbarians of yours before I go,' said Stonor,
rising with decision.

The sound of voices on the stair was quite distinct now. By the time the
servant had opened the door and announced: 'Mrs. Heriot, Miss Heriot,
Captain Beeching,' Mr. Freddy, the usually gracious host, was leading
the way through the back drawing-room, unblushingly abetting Mr.
Stonor's escape under the very eyes of persons who would have gone miles
on the chance of meeting him.

Small wonder that Jean was consoled for knowing herself too shy to
follow, if she remembered that he had actually asked her to do so! She
showed no surprise at the tacit assumption on the part of his relations
that Geoffrey Stonor could never be expected to sit there as common
mortals might, making himself more or less agreeable to whoever might
chance to drop in. Unless they were 'very special' of course he couldn't
be expected to put up with them.

But what on earth was happening! No wonder Mrs. Freddy looked aghast.
For Mrs. Heriot had had the temerity to execute a short cut and waylay
the escaping lion. 'Oh, how do you do?'--she thrust out a hand. And he
went out as if she had been thin air! It was the kind of insolence that
used to be more common, because safer, than it is likely to be in
future--a form of condoned brutality that used to inspire more awe than
disgust. People were guilty even of a slavish admiration of those who
had the nerve to administer this wholly disproportionate reproof to the
merely maladroit. It could be done only by one whom all the world had
conspired to befog and befool about his importance in the scheme of
things.

Small wonder the girl, too, was bewildered. For no one seemed to dream
of resenting what had occurred. The lesson conveyed appeared to be that
the proper attitude to certain of your fellow-creatures was very much
the traditional one towards royalty. You were not to speak unless you
were spoken to. And yet this man who with impunity snubbed persons of
consideration, was the same one who was coming to call on Sally
McTaggart--he was going to walk the bridle-path along the burnside to
the white heather haven.

With the dazed look in her eyes, and cheeks scarlet with sympathy and
confusion, the girl had run forward