o far succeeded that she sat up and pushed her
tangled hair from her wet, hot face, and began to search for the ring.

"It has got a diamond in the centre," she said, trying to speak
indifferently. "I don't believe you looked at it. The opals are
splendid, too."

"Are you going to wear it?" asked Aimee.

She colored up to her forehead. "No, I am not," she answered. "I should
have worn it before if I had intended to let people see it. I told you
it was a secret. I have had this ring three or four days."

"Why is it a secret?" demanded Dame Prudence. "I don't believe in
secrets,--particularly in secret engagements. Is n't Phil to know?"

She turned away to put the ring into its case.

"Not yet," she replied, pettishly. "Time enough when it can't be helped.
It is a secret, I tell you, and I don't care about everybody's talking
it over."

And she would say no more.

CHAPTER XII. ~ IN WHICH THERE IS AN EXPLOSION.

"It is my impression," said Dolly, "that something is going to happen."

She was not in the best of spirits. She could not have explained why.
Griffith was safe, at least, though he had been detained a week longer
than he had anticipated, and consequently their meeting would have to be
deferred; but though this had been a disappointment, Dolly was used
to such disappointments, and besides the most formidable part of the
waiting was over, for it was settled now that he would be home in two
days. It was Tuesday now, and on Thursday he was to return, and she
was going to Bloomsbury Place in the afternoon, and he was to join the
family tea as he had used to do in the old times. But still she did not
feel quite easy. She was restless and uncomfortable in spite of herself,
and was conscious of being troubled by a vague presentiment of evil.

"It is not like me to be blue," she said to herself; "but I am blue
to-day. I wonder what is going on at home."

Then, as was quite natural, her thoughts wandered to Mollie, and
she began to ponder upon what Aimee had told her. How were matters
progressing, and what was going to be the end of it all? The child's
danger was plainer to her than it was to Aimee; and, fond as she was of
Mollie, she had determined to improve the occasion of her visit home,
by taking the fair delinquent aside and administering a sound lecture
to her. She would tell her the truth, at least, and try to open her
innocent eyes to the fact that Mr. Gerald Chandos was not a man of the
King Co