iggled girlishly.

That such a large cow of a woman should want protection of any sort
seemed quite ridiculous to Hector--maddeningly ridiculous at the present
moment. Theodora had disappeared, having seen him standing there with
Morella Winmarleigh, who she had been told he was going to marry.

He was literally white with suppressed rage. The Royalty had
commandeered Anne, and among the dozens of people he knew there was not
one in sight with whom he could plant Morella Winmarleigh; so he gave
her his arm, and hurried along the way Theodora had disappeared.

"Are you going to Beechleigh for Whitsuntide?" Morella asked. "I am, and
I think we shall have a delightful party."

Hector was not paying the least attention. Theodora was completely out
of sight now, and might be lost altogether, for all they were likely to
overtake her among this crowd and the numberless exits and entrances.

"Beechleigh!" he mumbled, absently. "Who lives there? I don't even know.
I am going home."

"Why, Hector, of course you know! The Fitzgeralds--Sir Patrick and Lady
Ada. Every one does."

Then it came to him. These were Theodora's uncle and aunt. Was it
possible she could be going there, too? He recollected she had told him
in Paris her father had written to this brother of his about her coming
to London. She might be going. It was a chance, and he must ascertain at
once.

Sir Patrick Fitzgerald he knew at the Turf, and now that he thought of
it he knew Lady Ada by sight quite well, and he was aware he would be a
welcome guest at any house. If Theodora was going, he expected the thing
could be managed. Meanwhile, he must find her, and get rid of Morella
Winmarleigh. He hurried her on through the blue salon and the yellow
salon and out into the gallery beyond. Theodora had completely
disappeared.

Miss Winmarleigh kept up a constant chatter of commonplaces, to which,
when he replied at all, he gave random answers.

And every moment she became more annoyed and uneasy.

She had known Hector since she was a child. Their places adjoined in the
country, and she saw him constantly when there. Her stolid vanity had
never permitted the suggestion to come to her that he had always been
completely indifferent to her. She intended to marry him. His mother
shared her wishes. They were continually thrown together, and the
thought of her as a probable ending to his life when all pleasures
should be over had often entered his head.

Before he