t it touching?"

Madeline seized her hand.

"Bertha, need I be frightened of Moona Chivvey? She's a dangerous sort
of girl; she takes interest in all the things Rupert does: pictures, and
poetry and art needlework."

"Does Rupert really do art needlework? What a universal genius he is!"

"Don't be absurd! I mean the things he understands. And she runs after
him, rather. Need I be afraid?"

"No, you need not," reassured Bertha. "I don't think she sounds at all
violent. There's a ring."

"Then I'll go."

* * * * *

Almost immediately afterwards the servant announced "Mr. Nigel Hillier."

Nigel Hillier came in cheerily and gaily, brimming over with vitality
and in the highest spirits. At present he was like sunshine and fresh
air. There was a lurking danger that as he grew older he might become
breezy. But as yet there was no sign of a draught. He was just
delightfully exhilarating. He was not what women call handsome or
divine, but he was rather what men call a smart-looking chap: fair, with
bright blue eyes, and the most mischievous smile in London. He was
unusually rapid in thought, speech and movement, without being restless,
and his presence was an excellent cure for slackness, languor,
strenuousness or a morbid sense of duty.

"You look as if you had only just got up," remarked Bertha, as she gave
him her hand. "Not a bit as though you'd been through the fatigues and
worries and the heat and burden of the day."

"Oh, that's too bad!" he answered. "You know perfectly well I always get
up in time to see the glorious sunset! Why this reproach? I don't know
that I've ever seen you very early in the day; I always regard you less
as a daughter of the morning than as a minion of the moon."

"How is Mrs. Hillier?" replied Bertha rather coldly.

"All right--I promise I won't. Mary? Why Mary is well--very well--but
just, perhaps, a teeny bit trying--just a shade wearing. No--no, I don't
mean that. ... Well, I'm at your service for the play and so on. Shall I
write to Rupert Denison and Miss Irwin? And will you all come and dine
with me, and where shall we go?"

"Don't you think something thrilling and exciting and emotional--or,
perhaps, something light and frivolous?"

"For Rupert I advise certainly the trivial, the flippant. It would have
a better effect. Why not go to the new Revue--'_That will be
Fourpence_'--where they have the two young Simultaneous Dancers, the
Misses Za