d as she turned from
the glass. "But you will probably be a secretary to the end of your
days, drink cold weak tea, keep a cat and get hard and angular, skinny
most likely. You're just the sort that runs to skin and bone."

She was interrupted in her meditations by a knock at the door.

"Come in," she called.

The door was softly opened and Mrs. Hamilton entered.

"May I come in, dear?" she enquired in an apologetic voice, as she
stood on the threshold.

"Come in!" cried Patricia, "why of course you may, you dear. You can
do anything you like with me."

Mrs. Hamilton was small and white and fragile, with a ray of sunlight
in her soul. She invariably dressed in grey, or blue-grey. Everything
she wore seemed to be as soft as her own expression.

"I--I came up--I--I--hope it is not bad news. I don't want to meddle
in your affairs, my dear; but I am concerned. If there is anything I
can do, you will tell me, won't you? You won't think me inquisitive,
will you?"

"Why you dear, silly little thing, of course I don't. Still it's just
like your sweet self to come up and enquire. It is only that
ridiculous Colonel Bowen who is showering telegrams on me in this way,
in order, I suppose, to benefit the revenue. I think he has gone mad.
Perhaps it's shell-shock, poor thing. There will most likely be
another shower before we go to bed. Now we will go downstairs and stop
those old pussies talking."

"My dear!" expostulated Mrs. Hamilton.

Patricia laughed. "Yes, aren't I getting acid and spinsterish?"

As they walked downstairs Mrs. Hamilton said:

"I'm so anxious to see him, my dear. Miss Wangle says he is so
distinguished-looking."

"Who?" enquired Patricia, with mock innocence.

"Colonel Bowen, dear."

"Oh! Yes, he's quite a decent-looking old thing, and he's given Galvin
House something to talk about, hasn't he?"

In the lounge Patricia soon became the centre of a group anxious for
information; but no one was daring enough to put direct questions to
her. Mrs. Craske-Morton ventured a suggestion that Colonel Bowen might
be coming to dine with Patricia, and that she hoped Miss Brent would
let her know in good time, so that she might make special preparations.

Patricia replied without enthusiasm. None was better aware than she
that had her fiance turned out to be a private, Mrs. Craske-Morton
would have been the last even to suggest that he should dine at Galvin
House. There would have been