ing to
the band. Patricia explained to Bowen how from the first she had known
that Elton and Tanagra were in love.

"But we've known him all our lives!" expostulated Bowen.

"The very thing that blinded you all to a most obvious fact."

"But why didn't he----?" began Bowen.

"Because of her money," explained Patricia. "Anyhow," she continued
gaily, "I had lost my own tail, and I wasn't going to see Tanagra
wagging hers before my eyes. Now let's go up and see what has
happened."

Just as Bowen's hand was on the handle of the sitting-room door,
Patricia cried out that she had dropped a ring. When they entered the
room Elton and Lady Tanagra were standing facing the door. One glance
at their faces, told Patricia all she wanted to know. Without a word
Elton came forward and bending low, kissed her hand. There was
something so touching in his act of deference that Patricia felt her
throat contract.

She went across to Lady Tanagra and put her arm round her.

"You darling!" whispered Lady Tanagra. "How clever of you to know."

"I knew the first time I saw you together," whispered Patricia.

Lady Tanagra hugged her.

"And now we must all run round to Grosvenor Square. Poor Mother--what
a surprise for her!"

III

Elton's medical board took a more serious view of his state of health
than was anticipated, and he was temporarily given an appointment in
the Intelligence Department. Bowen's application to be allowed to
rejoin his regiment was refused, and thus the way was cleared for the
double wedding that took place at St. Margaret's, Westminster.

Patricia was given away by the Duke of Gayton. Lady Peggy declared
that it would rank as the most heroic act he had ever performed. Mr.
Triggs reached the highest sartorial pinnacle of his career in a light
grey, almost white frock-coated suit with a high hat to match, a white
waistcoat, and a white satin tie. As Elton expressed it, he looked
like a musical-comedy conception of a bookmaker turned philanthropist.

Galvin House was there in force. Even Gustave obtained an hour off
and, with a large white rose in his button-hole, beamed on everyone and
everything with the utmost impartiality. Miss Brent, like Achilles,
sulked in her tent.

"The only two men I ever loved," wailed Lady Peggy to a friend, "and
both gone at one shot."

"She's a lucky girl," said an old dowager, "and only a secretary."

"Some girl. What!" muttered an embryo field-marshal