e
throttle and slid out of sight as Jeannette was admitted.

His lordship was out, the butler informed her. Then she would wait--wait
all day, if necessary, she said decisively, following the man into the
library. No, she was in no need of refreshment, but her _chauffeur_, who
had gone round to the stables, might be glad of something in the
servants' hall.

With a foot impatiently tapping the polished floor, she sat summoning up
all her determination whilst awaiting the ordeal before her. For, by
this time had come the inevitable reaction, and the sudden impulse that
had made her act as she had seemed, somehow, out of relation to the
motive that had inspired it. Not that she regretted having come: her
self-respect demanded that sacrifice; but she wished the unpleasant
affair over.

An intolerable ten minutes passed. The beautiful seventeenth century
room, like a reflection on the spirit of democracy, was getting on
Jeannette's nerves. The strain of listening, watching the big mahogany
door for the expected entrance of Lord Chilminster, at last reduced her
to a state of apathy, and when he did come quietly in she was taken by
surprise.

"I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting," he said.

Jeannette stared. Bareheaded, gaiterless, minus his driving coat, very
self-contained and eminently aristocratic, the supposed motor-man
advanced into the room.

"You see, you told me to take the car round to the stables," he
proceeded, with a touch of apology in his tone.

"You--you are the Earl of Chilminster?" she gasped.

"Of Sapworth Hall, Wilts," he augmented, like one who quotes. "And you
are Miss Jeannette L. Urmy, of Boston, Massachusetts, I believe."

There was quite a long silence.

"You knew all along," she flushed angrily.

Chilminster raised a hand in protest. "Not until you told me."

"Then why didn't you stop? You ought to have taken me back immediately
you knew who I was."

"So I would have if----"

"You mean you didn't believe me. You thought I was a lady's maid!"
Jeannette interrupted indignantly.

"That was an error of judgment for which I humbly apologize. We are all
liable to make mistakes sometimes. You, Miss Urmy, for instance, took me
for a motor-man. You also appropriated my car, and commanded me to bring
you here at a murderous--no, a killing pace. And I think you added that
you would make it up to me."

Jeannette's face tingled. She had come to accuse, and, instead, found
herself patiently