arranged for you."

"So do I."

"And you'll do it. Oh, you think you won't, but you will. Men always
end by doing what they're told."

"Does Mr. Marland?"

"He begins by it," laughed his wife.

"Is that why he's not coming till Saturday week?"

"Mr. Merceron! But what was Miss Bushell doing at the Pool? Did she
come to find you?"

"Oh, no; just for a walk."

"Poor girl!"

"Why--it's good for her."

"I didn't mean the walk,"

"I'd blush if there was light enough to make it any use, Mrs. Marland."

"Oh, but I know there's something. You don't go there every evening to
look for a dead lady, Mr. Merceron."

Charlie stopped short, and took his cigar from his mouth.

"What?" he asked, a little abruptly.

"Well, I shall follow you some day, and I shouldn't be surprised if I
met--not Agatha--but----"

"Well?" asked Charlie, with an uncertain smile.

"Why, poor Miss Bushell!"

Charlie laughed and replaced his cigar.

"What are we standing still for?" he said.

"I don't know. You stopped. She'd be such an ideal match for you."

"Then I should never have done for you, Mrs. Marland."

"My dear boy, I was married when you were still in Eton collars."

They had completed the circuit of the garden, and now approached where
Lady Merceron sat, enveloped in a shawl.

"Charlie!" she called. "Here's a letter from Victor Button. He's coming
to-morrow."

"I didn't know you'd asked him," said Charlie, with no sign of pleasure
at the news. Victor had been at school and college with Charlie, and
often, in his holidays, at the Court, for he was Sir Victor's godson.
Yet Charlie did not love him. For the rest, he was very rich, and was
understood to cut something of a figure in London society.

"Mr. Sutton? Oh, I know him," exclaimed Mrs. Marland. "He's charming!"

"Then you shall entertain him," said Charlie. "I resign him."

"I can't think why you're not more pleased to have him here, Charlie,"
remarked Lady Merceron. "He's very popular in London, isn't he,
Vansittart?"

"I've met him at some very good houses," answered Mr. Vansittart. And
that, he seemed to imply, is better than mere popularity.

"The Bushells were delighted with him last time he was here," continued
Lady Merceron.

"There! A rival for you!" Mrs. Marland whispered.

Charlie laughed cheerfully. Sutton would be no rival of his, he
thought; and if he and Millie liked one another, by all means let them
take one another. A month before he