g a
card, which she gave to Brigit.

"Oh, dear--it is poor Ponty!" ejaculated the girl, involuntarily turning
to Joyselle.

"Poor----"

"Lord Pontefract, Theo. Oh, how _tiresome_ of mother!"

Joyselle frowned. "Do not call your mother tiresome," he said shortly.
"But who is this gentleman?"

Theo stood silently looking on. It was plain that it seemed to him quite
fitting that his father should arrange the matter.

"Lord Pontefract--a friend of--of ours," stammered Brigit, abashed by
the reproof as she had not been abashed for years.

"And do you want to see him?"

"No, no; I certainly do _not_ want to see him."

"Then I will go and tell him so."

"No, no. I--I had better go, don't you think, Theo?"

Poor Pontefract seemed rather piteous to her as he was discussed, and
her note had been curt and unsympathetic.

Theo looked up from his work of filling his pipe.

"I don't know. I should do as papa says."

"No. I must see him. I shall be back in a minute."

She ran downstairs almost into Pontefract's arms, for he had been left
in the passage by the horrified Toinon.

"Oh--sorry!" she exclaimed. "Come in here, will you?" "Here" was the
unused "salon" of the house, and in its austere ugliness would have
attracted the girl's attention at any other time. But she had now before
her something she had never seen, a perfectly sober Pontefract. And
though red, a little puffy, and watery as to eye, the man looked what he
was, an English gentleman. Brigit felt as though she had returned to an
uncongenial home after a tour into some strange, delightful country.

"I--I owe you an apology, I suppose," she said, so simply that he
stared.

"No, you don't, Lady Brigit. You wrote me a--a very kind note. But I
wanted to ask you to reconsider. I--I am unhappy."

There was a short pause, during which he looked at her unfalteringly,
and then he went on with a certain dignity: "I have--drunk too much of
late years, I know, but--I will never do so again. And I think I could
make you happy."

"Did mother send you here?" asked the girl suddenly.

"No; I telephoned her this morning for your address. She would be
glad--if you could make up your mind."

"I have made up my mind, Lord Pontefract. I am going to marry Theo
Joyselle. And--I think I am going to be happy. I--like them all very
much. And," holding out her hand, "I am _very_ sorry to have hurt you."

As she spoke the sound of music--violin music--came down the stai