charming women (he was convinced that _au fond_ she was charming) ought
to have no obstinate prejudices against marriage. He even ventured to
think that Miss Urmy's mind had become obscured on that point by
those--well, indiscreet lines in the _Morning Post_. They had upset him;
then why not her? They were so--premature.

As for Jeannette, in spite of Lord Chilminster's effortless ease, her
powers of conversation were frozen. She was reduced to monosyllables,
and she ate in proportion. It was a humiliating experience to be
accepting the hospitality of the enemy; one, moreover, that made it
awkward for her to prolong hostilities. Having broken bread in his
tents (a Puritan strain was responsible for the illustration) she felt
disarmed. Besides, she was rather ashamed of her maladroitness in
mistaking Lord Chilminster for a common motor-man. It argued
_gaucherie_. Perhaps he thought her unconventional call a violation of
good taste--considered her forward! He had plainly shown his annoyance
about that obnox--that embarrassing paragraph, and that fact spiked most
of her batteries. He might, after all, prove to be quite----

"Do you mind if I smoke?"

Lord Chilminster's voice startled her out of her reverie. The servants
had noiselessly retired, and they were alone.

"I--I feel ready to sink through the floor," she rejoined
inconsequently.

He returned his cigarette case to his pocket, looking quite concerned.
"I'm so sorry. I ought not to have----"

"No, no. Please smoke. It isn't that," stammered Jeannette.

"It's the _Morning Post_?"

Jeannette evaded his eye.

"Yes; it does put us in rather a tight place," mediated Chilminster.

Nothing was said for a moment.

"Engaged!" he murmured.

Jeannette raised her eyes and noted his reflective attitude.

"Who can have put it in?" he went on.

"I can't imagine."

"And why?"

"It does seem strange," admitted Jeannette in a detached tone.

"It's not as if we were----"

"No," she interposed hurriedly.

"Well, what ought we to do about it? Of course, we can contradict it,
but----"

"But what?" she asked, filling his pause.

"I hate advertisement--that is, _unnecessary_ advertisement,"
Chilminster corrected himself. "It would make us--I mean me--look so--so
vacillating."

He looked up rather suddenly, and just missed Jeannette's eyes by the
thousandth of a second.

What could he mean? she asked herself, while her heart pumped
boisterously. Was he magna