ne
but me," was Bowen's answer. "If you won't come and dine with me I'll
come and play my hooter outside Galvin House until they send you out to
get rid of me. You know, Patricia, I'm an awful fellow when I've set
my mind on anything, and I'm simply determined to marry you whether you
like it or not."

"Very well, I will dine with you to-night at half-past seven."

"I'll pick you up at Galvin House at a quarter-past seven with the car."

"Very well," said Patricia wearily. It seemed ridiculous to try and
fight against her fate, and at the back of her mind she had a plan of
action, which she meant to put into operation.

"Now I must get back to my work. Good-bye."

Bowen opened the door of the morning-room. Mrs. Bonsor was in the
hall. Patricia walked over to the library, leaving Bowen in Mrs.
Bonsor's clutches.

"Oh, Lord Peter!" Mrs. Bonsor gushed. "I hope you and Miss Brent will
dine with us----"

Patricia shut the library door without waiting to hear Bowen's reply.

At five o'clock she gave up the unequal struggle with infant mortality
statistics and walked listlessly across the Park to Galvin House. She
was tired and dispirited. It was the weather, she told herself, London
in June could be very trying, then there had been all that fuss over
_The Morning Post_ announcement. At Galvin House she knew the same
ordeal was awaiting her that she had passed through at Eaton Square.
Mrs. Craske-Morton would be effusive, Miss Wangle would unbend, Miss
Sikkum would simper, Mr. Bolton would be facetious, and all the others
would be exactly what they had been all their lives, only a little more
so as a result of _The Morning Post_ paragraph.

Only the fact of Miss Wangle taking breakfast in bed had saved Patricia
from the ordeal at breakfast. Miss Wangle was the only resident at
Galvin House who regularly took _The Morning Post_, it being "the dear
bishop's favourite paper."

Arrived at Galvin House Patricia went straight to her room. Dashing
past Gustave, who greeted her with "Oh, mees!" struggling at the same
time to extract from his pocket a newspaper. Patricia felt that she
should scream. Had everyone in Galvin House bought a copy of that
day's _Morning Post_, and would they all bring it out of their pockets
and point out the passage to her? She sighed wearily.

Suddenly she jumped up from the bed where she had thrown herself,
seized her writing-case and proceeded to write feverishly. At the end