"We ought to go down now, anyhow," said Eileen, still very
thoughtful.

"Come along, then, and face the music."

"You go. I'll follow in a minute. I want to put this wonderful pink
orchid in just the right place in my dress, and I shall be nervous if
you watch me."

"What a ripper! Where did you get it?" Rags pretended that he cared to
know the history of a wonderful, live-looking flower that lay on his
sister's dressing-table.

"Petro. He bought it for me in the florist department of his father's
shop. He said it was the latest addition--the department, not the
orchid."

"Don't you get thinking too much about Rolls," grumbled Lord Raygan.
"There _may_ be something in that affair, after all. One can never be
sure. Anyhow, I thought I'd tell you."

On that he closed the door, shutting himself out.

"Petro--and the Lady in the Moon," Eileen whispered, just above her
breath, as she found the right place for the orchid.

CHAPTER XVI

THE SEED ENA PLANTED

Ena was glad when she saw Eileen wearing the orchid that Petro had
bought for her in the gorgeous new department at the Hands. Rags had
at the same time purchased some gardenias for Miss Rolls, she having
mentioned that the gardenia was her favourite flower. Both girls
tucked these trophies into the front of their coats, and wore them
home. Also, they wore them again for dinner, a far more conspicuous
compliment to the givers. Ena meant it to be taken as such, and
faintly hoped, in spite of the afternoon's failure, that the thing she
prayed for might happen that night. Perhaps Lord Raygan needed a
little more encouragement, for, after all, she was rich and he was
poor, and men did hesitate about proposing to heiresses--in novels.

Nothing did happen; but there was still time, for the guests were
staying on for a cotillon, and there was a meeting at which Lady
Raygan had faithfully promised to speak. It was a shame, however, that
the effect of the orchid as well as the gardenias should be wasted,
and the morning after their visit to the Hands, Ena made an
opportunity of speaking to Petro alone.

He was in his own "den," one of the smallest rooms in the house, meant
for a dressing-room, and opening off his bedroom. He had fitted it up
as a nondescript lair, and indulged in ribald mirth if Ena tried to
dignify it with the name of "study." All the pictures of the big
animals he hadn't killed were there--beautiful wild things he felt he
had the righ