el."

"Isobel!"--with blank amazement. "I do care for her--she's a jolly
good sort--but not in that way. Besides, she doesn't care for me in
the slightest--except in a sisterly fashion."

"Are you sure of that? Remember, you've never asked her the question."
And with this final thrust, Lady Gertrude left him to his thoughts.

No doubt, later on, the thought of Isobel in the new light presented by
his mother would recur to his mind, but for the moment he was entirely
preoccupied with the matter of Nan's portrait and his determination to
put an end to the sittings.

It would be quite easy, he decided. The only thing that stood in the
way of his immediately carrying out his plan, was the fact that he had
promised to go away the following morning on a few days' fishing
expedition, together with Barry Seymour and the two Fentons. The
realisation that Maryon Rooke would probably spend the best part of
those few days in Nan's company set the blood pounding furiously
through his veins. His decision was taken instantly. The fishing
party must go without him.

As a natural sequence to his engagement to Nan he had an open
invitation to Mallow, and this evening he availed himself of it by
motoring across to dinner there. The question of the fishing party was
easily disposed of on the plea of unexpected estate matters which
required his supervision. Barry brushed his apologies aside.

"My dear chap, it doesn't matter a scrap. We three'll go as arranged
and you must join us on our next jaunt. Kitty'll be here to look after
Nan," he added, smiling good-naturedly. "She hates fishing--it bores
her stiff."

After dinner Roger made an opportunity to broach the matter of the
portrait to Nan.

"When's Rooke going to finish that portrait of you?" he asked her.
"He's taking an unconscionable time over it."

She coloured a little under the suspicion she read in his eyes.

"I--I think he'll finish it to-morrow," she stammered. "It's nearly
done, you know."

"So I should think. I'll see him about it. I'm going to buy the
thing."

"To--to buy it?"--nervously.

"Yes." His keen eyes flashed over her. "Is there anything
extraordinary in a man's purchasing the portrait of his future wife?"

"No. Oh, no. Only I don't fancy Maryon painted it with any idea of
selling it."

"And I didn't allow you to sit for it with any idea of his keeping it,"
retorted Roger grimly.

Nan remained silent, feeling that further disc