just why I want to show you."

Nanda looked as if already she saw it in the distance. "But will it be
peace if I'm there? I mean for YOU," she added.

"It isn't a question of 'me.' Everybody's omelet is made of somebody's
eggs. Besides, I think that when we're alone together--!"

He had dropped for so long that she wondered. "Well, when we are--?"

"Why, it will be all right," he simply concluded. "Temples of peace, the
ancients used to call them. We'll set up one, and I shall be at least
doorkeeper. You'll come down whenever you like."

She gave herself to him in her silence more than she could have done in
words. "Have you arranged it with mamma?" she said, however, at last.

"I've arranged everything."

"SHE won't want to come?"

Her friend's laugh turned him to her. "Don't be nervous. There are
things as to which your mother trusts me."

"But others as to which not."

Their eyes met for some time on this, and it ended in his saying: "Well,
you must help me." Nanda, but without shrinking, looked away again, and
Mr. Longdon, as if to consecrate their understanding by the air of ease,
passed to another subject. "Mr. Mitchett's the most princely host."

"Isn't he too kind for anything? Do you know what he pretends?" Nanda
went on. "He says in the most extraordinary way that he does it all for
ME."

"Takes this great place and fills it with servants and company--?"

"Yes, just so that I may come down for a Sunday or two. Of course he
has only taken it for three or four weeks, but even for that time it's
a handsome compliment. He doesn't care what he does. It's his way of
amusing himself. He amuses himself at our expense," the girl continued.

"Well, I hope that makes up, my dear, for the rate at which we're doing
so at his!"

"His amusement," said Nanda, "is to see us believe what he says."

Mr. Longdon thought a moment. "Really, my child, you're most acute."

"Oh I haven't watched life for nothing! Mitchy doesn't care," she
repeated.

Her companion seemed divided between a desire to draw and a certain fear
to encourage her. "Doesn't care for what?"

She considered an instant, all coherently, and it might have added to
Mr. Longdon's impression of her depth. "Well, for himself. I mean for
his money. For anything any one may think. For Lord Petherton,
for instance, really at all. Lord Petherton thinks he has helped
him--thinks, that is, that Mitchy thinks he has. But Mitchy's more
amused at HIM than