ta ran indoors.

"I'll follow you in a moment," she cried gleefully.

Lord Henry and Cleopatra sauntered towards the rose garden. "Have people
been telling you how very much you've improved?" he demanded.

She bowed her head and flushed slightly.

"I don't say it because I wish to hear compliments," he pursued.

"You've done wonders; you know it," she said, not daring to look at him
in her agitation.

"It is you who have done wonders," he replied.

She smiled and looked away.

These two people could not talk to each other. It was impossible. All
attempts hitherto had failed, except just that first attempt when Lord
Henry had received the girl's stirring confession. It was as if both
were trying their mightiest to abide strictly by conventionalities in
order to keep within bounds. It was as if neither of them dared to give
their tongues a free rein. Never had Lord Henry felt so utterly
tongue-tied in a woman's presence; never had Cleopatra looked so serene
while completely incapable of noisy cheerfulness.

"How splendid those two look side by side!" Sir Joseph exclaimed as they
approached the marquee.

Mrs. Delarayne felt a twinge in her heart, and as she proceeded to pour
out tea, her loathing for Denis Malster received such a sudden access of
strength that she found it hard to be civil.

"I don't quite see," she snapped, "why they look more splendid side by
side, as you put it, than one by one."

Miss Mallowcoid cast a glance full of reproach at her sister, and
wondered what it was that induced Sir Joseph to submit as kindly as he
did, day after day, to such monstrous treatment.

CHAPTER XVI

There was a dance at Brineweald that evening, and everybody who was
anybody in the neighbourhood had been invited. The Vicar's family, the
doctor's children, the Swynnertons from Barbacan, the Blights from the
Castle, and one or two people from Folkestone, were among the guests,
while a band had been ordered down from Ashbury for the occasion.

Lord Henry was entirely satisfied with the arrangement. It was
calculated to keep the two Brineweald households under his eye the whole
evening, and to prevent those wanderings which, while they complicated
his task, also made it difficult for him to follow developments.

To Denis Malster, on the other hand, the dance was a most unwelcome
disturbance. Fearing from the turn events had taken that day that he had
not gone far enough with Leonetta in order to be able