d now--if you
never come to see us----"

She stopped with a little catch in her voice. Her hand fastened on his
sleeve; their heads were very close together and her hair almost
brushed his cheek.

He really was an awful brute, but at the same time it was rather
nice--that she should care so much. It would be terrible for her when
he told her what was in his mind. She might even get very ill--he had
read of broken hearts often enough; and she was extraordinarily nice
just now--he didn't want to hurt her. But still a fellow must think of
his career, his future, and that sort of thing.

Mrs. Feverel entered--ponderous, solemn, dressed in a black silk that
trails behind her in funereal folds. Her hands were clammy to the
touch and her voice was a deep bass. She said very little, but sat
down silently by the window, forming, as she always did, a dark and
extremely solid background. Robin hated and feared her. There was
something sinister in her silence--something ominous in her perpetual
black. He had never heard her laugh.

Dahlia was laughing now. "I'm a selfish brute, Bobby," she said, "to
bother you with my silly little complaints when we want to be cheerful.
We'll have a good time this evening, won't we? We'll sing some of
those Rubinstein's duets after dinner, and I've got a new song that
I've been learning especially for you. And then there's your father; I
do want to hear all about him so much--he must be so interesting,
coming from New Zealand. Mother and I saw a gentleman in the town this
morning that we thought must be him. Tall and brown, with a light
brown moustache and a dark blue suit. It must be splendid to have a
father again after twenty years without him."

Her voice dropped a little, as though to refer gently to her own
fatherless condition.

Mrs. Feverel, a dark shadow in the window, sighed heavily.

"Oh! the Governor!" said Robin, a little irritably. "No! It's rather
difficult--he doesn't seem to know what to do and say. I suppose it's
being in New Zealand so long! It makes it rather difficult for me."

He spoke as one suffering under an unjust accusation. It was bad luck,
and he wondered vaguely why Dahlia had been so interested; why should
she care, unless, and the idea struck him with horror, she already
regarded him as a prospective father-in-law?

Dinner was announced by the grimy little maid. Robin took the dark
figure of Mrs. Feverel on his arm and made some hesita