for them that Rouget--' I say, what's the matter, Miss Dora?"

"I don't know why you should enjoy teasing me, but you _have_ nearly
made me cry, so perhaps you'll be happy now."

"You tried to take me in. I pretended to be taken in. That's all."

"Well, it was very unkind of you."

"So, after all, it's not a matter of indifference to you at what rate
we travel, as you said in the train to-day?"

"Oh, I had to. I--I couldn't let papa see."

"And why are you in a hurry?"

"I can't tell you; but I must--oh, I must!--be in England in four days."

"You'll hardly get your father to give up a day at Avignon."

"Well, one day there; then we should just do it, if we only slept in
Paris."

"Yes, but my wife----"

"Oh, you can stay. Don't say anything about Paris yet. Help me to get
there. I'll make papa go on. Please do, Sir Roger. I shall be so
awfully obliged to you; so will Mr. Ellerton."

"Charlie Ellerton? Not he! He's in no hurry."

"What do you mean? Didn't you hear him to-day urging papa to travel
straight through?"

"Oh, yes, I heard that."

"Well?"

"You were there then."

"What of that?"

"He's not so pressing when you're away."

"I don't understand. Why should he pretend to be in a hurry when he
isn't?"

"Ah, I don't know. Don't you?"

"Not in the least, Sir Roger. But never mind Mr. Ellerton. Will you
help me?"

"As far as Paris. You must look out for yourself there."

These terms Dora accepted. Surely at Paris she would hear some news of
or from John Ashforth. She thought he must have written one line in
response to her last letter, and that his answer must have been so far
delayed as to arrive at Cannes after her departure; it would be waiting
for her at Paris and would tell her whether she was in time or whether
there was no more use in hurrying. The dread that oppressed her was
lest, arriving too late in Paris, she should find that she had missed
happiness by reason of this wretched dawdling in Southern France.

Seeing her meditative, Deane slipped away to his cigar, and she sat in
the hotel hall, musing. Deane's revelation of Charlie's treachery
hardly surprised her; she meant to upbraid him severely, but she was
conscious that, if little surprised, she was hardly more than a little
angry. His conduct was indeed contemptible; it revealed an utter
instability and fickleness of mind which made her gravely uneasy as to
Mary Travers's chances of permanent happiness. Yes, scornful on