ntertainment was a relief. Indeed, May Dashwood began to smile when she
saw Boreham approaching her. Something, however, in his manner made the
smile fade away.

"Will you come over the house?" he asked, carefully putting his person
between herself and Lady Dashwood so as to obliterate the latter lady.
"I don't suppose Lady Dashwood wants to see it. Come along, Mrs.
Dashwood."

May could scarcely refuse. She rose. Harding was making his way to
Gwendolen Scott and raising his eyebrows at his wife as a signal for her
to appropriate Mrs. Potten. Bingham was standing in the middle of the
room staring at Lady Dashwood. Some problems were working in his mind,
in which that lady figured as an important item.

Gwendolen Scott looked round her. Mr. Harding had ignored her at lunch,
and she did not mean to have him sitting beside her again. She was quite
sure she wouldn't know what to say to him, if he did speak. She got up
hurriedly from her chair, passed the astonished Harding and plunged at
Mrs. Dashwood.

"Oh, do let me come and see over the house with you," she said, laying a
cold hand nervously on May's arm. "I should love to--I simply love
looking at portraits."

"Come, of course," said May, with great cordiality.

Boreham stiffened and his voice became very flat. "I've got no portraits
worth looking at," said he, keeping his hand firmly on the door. "I have
a couple of Lely's, they're all alike and sold with a pound of tea. The
rest are by nobodies."

"Oh, never mind," said Gwen, earnestly. "I love rooms; I
love--anything!"

Boreham's beard gave a sort of little tilt, and his innermost thoughts
were noisy and angry, but he had to open the door and let Gwendolen
Scott through if the silly little girl would come and spoil everything.

Boreham could not conceal his vexation. His arrangements had been
carefully made, and here they were knocked on the head, and how he was
to get May Dashwood over to Chartcote again he didn't know.

"What a nice hall!" exclaimed Gwen. "I do love nice halls," and she
looked round at the renaissance decorations of the wall and the domed
roof. "Oh, I do love that archway with the statue holding the electric
light, it is sweet!"

"It's bad style," said Boreham, walking gloomily in front of them
towards a door which led into the library. "The house was decent enough,
I believe, till some fool in the family, seeing other people take up
Italian art, got a craze for it himself and knocked