artled eyes to his and Landon laughed at her. He had
forgotten all about her till this moment, but just for the time being he
was at a loose end in London when all his friends were out of town, and
with no new passion on to entertain him. Pierrette, were she willing,
would fill in the gap pleasantly; they had not parted the best of
friends, but he had forgotten just enough for that memory not to rankle.
He sat down on the chair beside her and took one of her hands in his.

"Where have you been, Pierrette? And what have you been doing? Also,
are you not glad to see me, and whose love letter were you reading?"

"It is not a love letter." Joan took her hand away and folding up Miss
Abercrombie's letter, slipped it into her purse. "It is from my people,
asking me to come home, and I am going."

"Going, when I have only just found you again!"

His tone, his whole manner was unbearably familiar. Joan turned with
quick words of resentment on her lips, but they were never said. A
sudden thought came across her brain. Here was something with which she
could fight down and kill Dick's purpose. Better, far better than any
confession of hers, better than any stating of the truth, however
bluntly put, would be this man's easy familiarity, his almost air of
ownership. She found herself staring at Landon. What had she ever seen
in him that was either pleasant or attractive? She hated his eyes, and
the way they looked at her, the too evident care which had been expended
on his appearance, his long, shapely hands.

"Well, Pierrette, when you have finished studying my personal
appearance," Landon broke in, "perhaps you will explain yourself more
explicitly. Why are you flying from me just when I have found you? And,
Pierrette, what about supper to-night at Les Gobelins?"

"I can't do that," Joan spoke quickly. She had clenched her hands in her
lap; he did not notice that, but he could see that the colour had fled
from her face. "And I have got to go away the day after to-morrow. But
couldn't you come and have tea with me to-morrow at 6, Montague Square?
Do, please do."

What was she driving at? Landon caught his breath on a laugh. Was it the
last final flutter before she had to go back to home life and having her
wings cut? Or was she throwing herself into his arms after having fought
so furiously--he remembered that she had fought the last time, perhaps
she had learned her lesson; perhaps the poor little devil had really
fallen i