d to be in the brows of the Abbey Water!"

"Draw the curtains closer," said Patsy, "or we shall have your Mrs.
Arlington spying us out and carrying you off with a single wave of her
fan. She reminds me of Circe--a fat, curly-wurly Circe--like that
picture Uncle Ju brought back from Italy. _Why_ do you run after her,
Louis? I told you to go and make love to as many pretty girls as would
let you, and here you go and break the tables of affinity by making love
to your grandmother!"

At this Louis was vaguely offended--or perhaps rather hurt than
offended. He had not come there to be lectured--at least not about Mrs.
Arlington. But Patsy had the good sense to administer the cooling bitter
medicine immediately after the waltz, when men are never quite
themselves. She would give him time to get over it.

"I am not making love to Mrs. Arlington," he retorted abruptly.

"I should think not," said Patsy, as instantaneously. "As an officer and
a gentleman I should hope that you know better what England expects of
you--Patsy Ferris also. What does the man suppose he is here for, that
he should begin by telling me that? But seriously, Louis, you used to be
always one to strike out new paths for yourself--why do you stick to the
dusty highway--or, perhaps one might say in Mrs. Arlington's case, the
old military road?"

"Patsy," said Louis, "_you_ do not need to say things like that. You are
too pretty. Mrs. Arlington is a kind woman, much spoken against and
abominably maligned. Besides, she is a great admirer of yours, and would
give anything to be introduced to you! She told me so!"

Patsy whistled a mellow but mocking blackbird's note which very nearly
brought the Duke of Kent, and half-a-dozen of his compeers, upon them.
However, they passed on, in spite of royal instructions to "stop and
search--some of these little she-vixens are signalling us!"

While the danger lasted, Patsy had gripped Louis by the wrist as she
used to do in the woods when her uncle or some prowling gamekeeper went
by. And the pressure of her fingers made his pulses fly. Patsy sighed,
for she knew well that she was laying up wrath against herself, but for
the present she disregarded the future. She was saving Louis, and in
order to do this she must attach him to herself. It was a pity, of
course, because it would inevitably lead to entanglements. Louis would
blame her. Lady Lucy would blame her, and perhaps, at least till she had
an occasion to explai