cted. "You see, we are close to home now. My
uncle will be so glad to see you, Mr. Maraton, and I cannot tell you
how delighted I am that you are coming to Lyndwood."

"I only hope," he said a little gravely, "that your uncle will not
expect too much from my coming. It seems churlish to refuse, and even
though our views are as far apart as the poles, I know that your uncle
means well."

She smiled at him delightfully.

"I refuse to be depressed even by your solemn looks," she declared. "It
is my twenty-fourth birthday to-day and I am still young enough to cling
to my optimism."

"Your birthday," he remarked. "I should have brought you an offering."

She held up the roses.

"Nothing in the world," she assured him softly, "could have given me
more pleasure than these. Now I am going to take you first into a
little den where you will not be disturbed, and then fetch my uncle,"
she added, as they passed into the house. "I shall pray for your mutual
conversion. You won't mind a very feminine room, will you? Just now
there are certain to be callers at any moment, and my uncle's rooms are
liable to all manner of intrusions."

She threw open the door and ushered him into what seemed indeed to be a
little fairy chamber, a chamber with yellow walls and yellow rug, white
furniture, oddments of china and photographs, silver-grey etchings,
water-colour landscapes, piles of books and magazines. On a small table
stood a yellow Sevres vase, full of roses.

"It's a horrible place for a man to sit in," she said, looking around
her. "You must take that wicker chair and throw away as many cushions
as you like. Now I am going to fetch my uncle, and remember, please,"
she concluded, looking back at him from the door, "if I have seemed
frivolous this morning, I am not always so. More than anything I am
looking forward, down at Lyndwood, to have you, if you will, talk to me
seriously."

"Shall I dare to argue with you, I wonder?" he asked.

She smiled at him.

"Why not? A matter of courage?"

"The bravest person in the world," he declared, "remembers always that
little proverb about discretion."

CHAPTER VIII

The conference between Mr. Foley and Maraton was brief enough. The
former arrived a few moments after his niece's departure.

"I have come," Maraton announced, as they shook hands, "to accept your
invitation to Lyndwood. You understand, I am sure, that that commits me
to nothing?"

Mr. Foley's expression was one