r friendship, which would
give you a wrong impression. No, let us stay just as we are for a
little time."

"This is most tantalising," grumbled Norgate.

She leaned over and patted his hand.

"Have patience, my friend," she whispered. "The great things come to
those who wait."

An interruption, commonplace enough, yet in its way startling, checked
the words which were already upon his lips. The telephone bell from the
little instrument on the table within a few feet of them, rang
insistently. For a moment Mrs. Benedek herself appeared taken by
surprise. Then she raised the receiver to her ear.

"My friend," she said to Norgate, "you must excuse me. I told them
distinctly to disconnect the instrument so that it rang only in my
bedroom. I am disobeyed, but no matter. Who is that?"

Norgate leaned back in his place. His companion's little interjection,
however, was irresistible. He glanced towards her. There was a slight
flush of colour in her cheeks, her head was moving slowly as though
keeping pace to the words spoken at the other end. Suddenly she laughed.

"Do not be so foolish," she said. "Yes, of course. You keep your share of
the bargain and I mine. At eight o'clock, then. I will say no more now,
as I am engaged with a visitor. _Au revoir!_"

She set down the receiver and turned towards Norgate, who was turning the
pages of an illustrated paper. She made a little grimace.

"Oh, but life is very queer!" she declared. "How I love it! Now I am
going to make you look glum, if indeed you do care just that little bit
which is all you know of caring. Perhaps you will be a little
disappointed. Tell me that you are, or my vanity will be hurt. Listen and
prepare. To-night I cannot dine with you."

He turned deliberately around. "You are going to throw me over?" he
demanded, looking at her steadfastly.

"To throw you over, dear friend," she repeated cheerfully. "You would do
just the same, if you were in my position."

"It is an affair of duty," he persisted, "or the triumph of a rival?"

She made a grimace at him. "It is an affair of duty," she admitted, "but
it is certainly with a rival that I must dine."

He moved a little nearer to her on the lounge.

"Tell me on your honour," he said, "that you are not dining with Baring,
and I will forgive!"

For a moment she seemed as though she were summoning all her courage to
tell the lie which he half expected. Instead she changed her mind.

"Do not be unkind,"