-fours through all of the London
that knew him and half of the London that knew her; and Eric Lane would
be quoted as the latest foil or companion in the latest Barbara Neave
story. One did not even want the girl to be made a peg for Manders'
wit. . . .

The luncheon, Eric observed morosely, was cheaply successful, for
Barbara talked with barely concealed desire to lay Grierson and Manders
under her spell. By intuition or accident she gave them what tickled
their interest most keenly--intimate stories about herself or her
friends, the proved history of what to them had hitherto been but
alluring gossip, anecdotes of Government House and the minor secrets and
scandals of her father's three terms of office. Eric felt that it was a
_little_ below the dignity of a girl, who was after all the daughter of
a distinguished former viceroy, to be discussing herself and her friends
so freely. . . .

They had lost count of time when Grierson looked furtively at his watch
and jumped apologetically to his feet. As he hurried out of the room
Barbara again asked Eric whether he had a rehearsal that day.

"Because I want to come," she explained wheedlingly, with her head on
one side.

Her eyes were dark and tired after her overnight excitement; she had
exhausted herself with talking; and for a moment Eric forgot to be
irritated and only saw her as a child whom it would be ungracious to
disappoint. Then he remembered one phase of a rambling story in which
her love of getting her own way had caused her cavalier of the day to
wait in his car from midnight until six because she had forgotten to
leave a message that she had already gone home. In the story Eric could
not remember any apology from Barbara. Triumphs came so quickly and
easily that she expected everything and valued nothing; a man was
sufficiently rewarded by being allowed to fall in love with her. . . .

"I'm afraid rehearsals aren't open to the public," he told her,
brusquely enough to dismiss the appeal, he hoped, but not so brusquely
as to hurt her.

She looked at him with the glint of defiance which he had seen once
before; then she turned to Manders.

"Please, I want to come to the rehearsal," she begged. "It's your
theatre, Mr. Manders."

"It's my play," Eric interrupted.

She turned her head long enough to say:

"I was asking Mr. Manders."

"But it happens that I also----"

Manders intervened with a clucking noise of the tongue.

"Keep the ring, keep th