ered the morning-room, Bowen came forward.

"Oh, Patricia! why will you persist in being a cold douche? Why this
morning I absolutely scandalised Peel by singing at the top of my voice
whilst in my bath, and now. Look at me now!"

Patricia looked at him, then she was forced to laugh. He presented
such a woebegone appearance.

"But what on earth have I to do with your singing in your bath?" she
enquired.

"It was _The Morning Post_ paragraph. I thought everything was going
to be all right after last night, and now I'm a door-mat again."

"Who inserted that paragraph?" enquired Patricia.

"I rang up _The Morning Post_ office and they told me that it was
handed in by Miss Brent, who is staying at the Mayfair Hotel."

"Aunt Adelaide!" There was a depth of meaning in Patricia's tone as
she uttered the two words, then turning to Bowen she enquired, "Did you
tell them to contradict it?"

"They asked me whether it were correct," he said, refusing to meet
Patricia's eyes.

"What did you say?"

"I said it was." He looked at her quizzically, like a boy who is
expecting a severe scolding. Patricia had to bite her lips to prevent
herself from laughing.

"You told _The Morning Post_ people that it was correct when you knew
that it was wrong?"

Bowen hung his head. "But it isn't wrong," he muttered.

"You know very well that it is wrong and that I am not engaged to you,
and that no marriage has been arranged or ever will be arranged. Now I
shall have to write to the editor and insist upon the statement being
contradicted."

"Good Lord! Don't do that, Patricia," broke in Bowen. "They'll think
we've all gone mad."

"And for once a newspaper editor will be right," was Patricia's comment.

"And will you dine to-night, Pat?"

Patricia looked up. This was the first time Bowen had used the
diminutive of her name. Somehow it sounded very intimate.

"I am afraid I have an--an----"

The hesitation was her undoing.

"No; don't tell me fibs, please. You will dine with me and then,
afterwards, we will go on and see the mater. She is dying to know you."

How boyish and lover-like Bowen was in spite of his twenty-eight years,
and--and--how different everything might have been if---- Patricia was
awakened from her thoughts by hearing Bowen say:

"Shall I pick you up here in the car?"

"No, I--I've just told you I am engaged," she said.

"And I've just told you that I won't allow you to be engaged to anyo