"I thought you wanted to talk sense, Savile. What is it? Have you found
out--anything?"

"What do you mean? Yes, I've jolly well found out that I can't be
engaged to you any more. I've no right to be."

She did not seem overwhelmed by the news.

"Fancy! Just fancy! Oh--I see. Is there some one else? Who is it,
Savile?"

He smiled in his most superior way.

"My dear child, people don't go about mentioning women's names. Now look
here, Dolly, I meant to be straight, so I told you right out."

She smiled.

"I wonder what sort of girl she is! Well, it can't be Gladys: she's much
too hideous. That's _one_ comfort!"

"You're right, it can't. Besides, it's not."

"Well, Savile, you're a dear good boy to come and tell me about it. And,
the fact is, I was just wanting to tell you myself that perhaps we had
better not be engaged any more. Just be pals instead, you know."

"Who's the man?" He spoke sternly.

She began to talk very volubly.

"You know those people whom we met at Dinard last summer, the de Saules?
They're French, you know. Well, Madame de Saules,--you can't think how
pretty she is,--and dear little Therese, and Robert have just come over
here for the season. Therese is such a darling. You would love her. Only
a kid, of course, you know, but...."

"And what price this beastly French boy? Now, listen to me. Foreigners
are all rotters. I can tell you that if you're engaged to him you'll
live to regret it. I speak as a friend, Dolly."

"Oh dear no! We're not engaged! You don't understand! Private
engagements are not the proper thing in France. It isn't done. _Oh_ no!
Why, his mother would write to my mother and then he would send a
bouquet, or something, and then----"

"A bouquet! By Jove! Why, you're more prehistoric than Aunt William!
Well, look here, if this little blighter keeps his place I shan't
interfere. But, mind you, if I see the smallest sign of----"

He rose to his feet.

"Of what?" said Dolly, rising and looking angry. "He's a nice, handsome,
polite, dear boy. So there!"

"I should only wring his neck, that's all. Good-bye, old girl."

They walked to the gate together.

"It's only for your good, you know, Dolly. I don't mean to be a brute."

"Oh, it's all right, Savile."

"Dolly, dear."

"Yes, Savile."

"I'm awfully fond of you, really."

"Of course, I know, dear boy. Come again when you can, won't you?"

"_Won't_ I?" said Savile.

CHAPTER V

ARTHUR MERVYN AT HO