s.

"Are you quite--quite happy, Nan?" she asked somewhat wistfully.

Nan's eyes met hers with a blankness of expression which betrayed
nothing.

"Yes, thank you. What a funny question to ask!" she responded promptly.

And Kitty felt as though she had laid her hand on the soft folds of a
velvet curtain, only to come sharply up against a shutter of steel
concealed beneath it.

In duty bound, however, she invited Trenby to remain for dinner, an
invitation which he accepted with alacrity, and throughout the meal Nan
was at her gayest and most sparkling. It seemed impossible to believe
that all was not well with her, and if the brilliant mood were designed
to prevent Penny from guessing the real state of affairs it was
eminently successful. Even Lord St. John and the Seymours were almost
persuaded into the belief that she was happy in her engagement. But as
each and all of them were arguing from the false premise that the
change in Nan had been entirely due to Rooke's treatment of her, they
were inevitably very far from the truth.

That Peter was in love with Nan, Kitty was aware, but she knew nothing
of that brief scene at the flat, interrupted by the delivery of Rooke's
telegram, and during which, with hardly a word spoken, Nan had suddenly
realised that Peter loved her and that she, too, returned his love.
Perhaps had any of them known of that first meeting between the two,
when Peter had come to Nan's rescue in Hyde Park and helped her to her
journey's end, it might have gone far towards enlightening them, but
neither Peter nor Nan had ever supplied any information on the subject.
It almost seemed as though by some mental process of thought
transference, each had communicated with the other and resolved to keep
their secret--an invisible bond between them.

"You're not frightened, are you, Nan?" asked Roger, when the rest of
the household had tactfully left them alone together a few minutes
before his departure.

He spoke very gently and tenderly. Like most men, he was at his best
just now, when he had so newly gained the promise of the woman he
loved--rather humble, even a little awed at the great gift bestowed
upon him, and thinking only of Nan and of what he would do to compass
her happiness in the future when she should be his wife.

"No, I'm not frightened." replied Nan. "I think"--quietly--"I shall be
so--safe--with you."

"Safe?"--emphatically. "I should think you would be safe! I'm strong
en