, and had evidently provided herself with materials of
amusement for the afternoon, for she had a "picture-postcard album" by
her side, and seemed absorbed in a thick volume of history.

Dolly Clive resembled in expression and the shape of her face one of Sir
Joshua's angel's heads (if one could imagine them brunettes). She had
large brown eyes and a long black plait, and was a graceful example of
what was formerly called "the awkward age." It needed no connoisseur to
see that she was going to be a very pretty woman. When she saw Savile,
she rushed to the gate and let him in with a key.

"Hallo, Dolly!"

"I say, Savile, wasn't King Charles the Second an angel? I've just been
reading all about him, and you can't think what fun they used to have!"

He seemed surprised at this greeting, walked slowly with her to the
arbour, and said rather suspiciously----

"Who had fun?"

"Why Lady Castlemaine, and Nell Gwynne, and the Duchess of
Portsmouth,--and all those people. It says so here, if you don't believe
it! I wish I'd lived at that time."

"I don't. There's fun now, too."

"Ah, but you don't know anything about it, Savile. I bet you anything
you like you can't tell me those clever lines about the poor darling
King's death!"

"Of course I can. Everybody knows them." Savile made an effort and then
said, "You mean Fain would I climb but that ..."

"Oh no, no, no! Oh, good gracious, no! One more try, now."

"Had I but served my God as faithfully as I have served my king ..."

"Wrong again. That's Sir Philip Sidney," she said, shutting up the book
with a bang. "It's

Here lies our Sovereign Lord the King
Whose word no man relies on ..."

"I say, old girl, I didn't come here to talk history, if you don't
mind."

"Well, what do you want to talk about? Shall I show you my new one of
Zena Dare?" said Dolly, opening the postcard album.

"Certainly not. I can't worry about Zena Dare. No, I've got something to
tell you--something rather serious. Zena Dare, indeed! What next?"

"Oh dear, are you in a bad temper?"

"How like a woman! No, I'm _not_ in a bad temper. Talking sense doesn't
show that one's in a bad temper. But it's a beastly thing to have to
do."

Dorothy sat on both the books, came nearer to Savile, and looked rather
pale, tactfully waiting, in silence.

Then suddenly he said in a different tone, quite cheerily----

"That's rather jolly, the way that blue bow is stuck in your hair,
Dolly."