my lord."

It was Peel's voice that broke in upon his reflections.

"Oh, damn!" cried Bowen as he threw his legs out of bed and sat looking
at Peel.

"I beg pardon, my lord?"

"I said damn!" replied Bowen.

"Yes, my lord."

Bowen regarded Peel narrowly. He was confoundedly irritating this
morning. He seemed to be my-lording his master specially to annoy him.
There was, however, no sign upon Peel's features or in his watery blue
eyes indicating that he was other than in his normal frame of mind.

Why couldn't Patricia be sensible? Why must she take up this absurd
attitude, contorting every action of his into a covert insult? Why
above all things couldn't women be reasonable? Bowen rose, stretched
himself and walked across to the bath-room. As he was about to enter
he looked over his shoulder.

"If," he said, "you can arrange to remind me of my infernal title as
little as possible during the next few days, Peel, I shall feel
infinitely obliged."

"Yes, my lord," was the response.

Bowen banged the door savagely, and Peel rang to order breakfast.

During the meal Bowen pondered over the events of the previous evening,
and in particular over Patricia's unreasonableness. His one source of
comfort was that she had appealed to him to put things right about her
aunt. That would involve his seeing her again. He did not, or would
not, see that he was the only one to whom she could appeal.

Bowen always breakfasted in his own sitting-room; he disliked his
fellow-men in the early morning. Looking up suddenly from the table he
caught Peel's expressionless eye upon him.

"Peel."

"Yes, my lord."

"Why is it that we Englishmen dislike each other so at breakfast?"

Peel paused for a moment. "I've heard it said, my lord, that we're
half an inch taller in the morning, perhaps our perceptions are more
acute also."

Bowen looked at Peel curiously.

"You're a philosopher," he said, "and I'm afraid a bit of a cynic."

"I hope not, my lord," responded Peel.

Bowen pushed back his chair and rose, receiving from Peel his cap,
cane, and gloves.

"By the way," he said, "I want you to ring up Lady Tanagra and ask her
to lunch with me at half-past one. Tell her it's very important, and
ask her not to fail me."

"Yes, my lord: it shall be attended to."

Bowen went out. Lady Tanagra was Bowen's only sister. As children
they had been inseparable, forced into an alliance by the overbearing
nature of their e