his face bearing such a reflection of the
expression she felt to be in her own that she could not resist.

"_Bon._ It is laugh, then?" he cried, kissing her hands. "It appears
Belle-Ange has a temper, too! Let us forget all about it. Felicite, my
dear, bring us Hydromel, and we will drink forgetfulness." He opened the
door of the cage, and William the Conqueror came mincing out, waddling
on his inturned toes like some fat, velvet-clad dowager.

Hydromel is a Norman liqueur, thick and cloying. Brigit loathed it, but
could not resist Joyselle, who, the parrot on his left wrist, poured the
sweet stuff into little glasses and handed one to her.

"Item: forget that we both have bad tempers," he said, striking his
glass against hers. "Item; remember that we are both good in our hearts;
item, remember that father and daughter must be patient with each
other."

As she drained her glass Theo came in and laughed as he saw what they
were doing.

"A reconciliation already?" he cried. "Papa, what have you been up to?"

"We have both been correcting and being corrected. _Bon, c'est fini!_"

CHAPTER NINE

"My dear Gerald, anyone would think _I_ wanted her to do it!" Lady
Kingsmead's voice was very fretful, for Carron had done nothing but talk
to her about Brigit for the last fortnight, and though she knew that his
old love for herself was dead and buried, yet she enjoyed having an
occasional flower of speech laid on its grave.

"I really believe you are in love with her," she went on after a pause,
as he did not answer.

"Bosh!"

"But it certainly looks like it. You do nothing but talk about her."

Carron roused himself with an effort from the treadmill line of thought
that had tortured him ever since Brigit's engagement. "My dear Tony, you
are absurd. You know perfectly well that I have never loved any woman
but you. You have led me a dog's life for years; you prevented my
getting on in my career, because it amused you to have me dangling
about----"

Lady K. Oh, Gerald, will you ever forget that horrible
winter when you went to India?

Carron (_aloud_). No, Tony! (_In petto_) She _can't_
love the boy. That much is quite impossible!

Lady K. The awful cables you used to send me? Heavens, how
I cried every night, Gerry! And how horrid Kingsmead was that year!
_So_ jealous.

Carron (_aloud_). You were always such an abominable
flirt! (_In petto_) If I only knew _