istence. And so he barked twice at the intruder who
stood outside, watching his master with a faint smile. True the second
bark seemed in the nature of an apology; but damn it, one must do
something. . . .

"You've come," said Vane, and with the sight of her every other thought
left his head. "My dear--but it's good of you. . . ."

"Didn't you expect me?" she asked coming into the room. Still with the
same faint smile, she turned to Binks. "Hullo, old fellow," she said.
"You sure have got a great head on you." She bent over him, and put
her hand on the browny-black patch behind his ears. . . . Binks
growled; he disliked familiarity from people he did not know.

"Look out, Joan," said Vane nervously. "He's a little funny with
strangers sometimes."

"Am I a stranger, old chap?" she said, taking off her glove, and
letting her hand hang loosely just in front of his nose, with the back
towards him. Vane nodded approvingly, though he said nothing; as a
keen dog lover it pleased him intensely to see that the girl knew how
to make friends with them. And not everyone--even though they know the
method to use with a doubtful dog--has the nerve to use it. . . .

For a moment Binks looked at her appraisingly; then he thrust forward a
cold wet nose and sniffed once at the hand in front of him. His mind
was made up. Just one short, welcoming lick, and he trotted back to
his hole in the wainscot. Important matters seemed to him to have been
neglected far too long as it was. . . .

"Splendid," said Vane quietly. "The other member of the firm is now in
love with you as well. . . ."

She looked at Vane in silence, and suddenly she shivered slightly. "I
think," she said, "that we had better talk about rather less dangerous
topics. . . ." She glanced round her, and then went to the window and
stood looking out into the bright sunlight. "What topping rooms you've
got," she said after a moment.

"They aren't bad, are they?" remarked Vane briefly. "What do you say
to some tea? My devoted landlady is preparing a repast which
millionaires would squander their fortunes for. Her sister happens to
live in Devonshire. . . ."

"So you were expecting me?" she cried, turning round and facing him.

"I was," answered Vane.

She laughed shortly. "Well--what do you think of dyspepsia and Vichy?"

"I've been trying not to think of him ever since lunch," he answered
grimly. She came slowly towards him, and suddenly Vane ca