LITMIR.BIZ

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about a man I have never seen?”

      “Not distress yourself exactly, but you might cast a kindly thought. He will be disappointed, and the poor little agent will have a bad half-hour.”

      “Now you are asking sympathy for the agent, too! Evelyn, aren’t you the least little bit in the world inclined to wear your heart on your sleeve?”

      “Charmion, aren’t you the least little bit inclined to be hard?”

      She agreed with unflinching candour.

      “I am. It’s the safer plan if one doesn’t want to be hurt!”

      “But—what about the other people? Mayn’t they be hurt instead?”

      She looked at me gravely for a moment, then with a smile which grew gradually broad and roguish.

      “We ought to strike a happy mean between us, eh, Evelyn? You are all credulity and gush, and I refuse to disturb myself about other people, or their affairs.”

      “That’s not true! You disturbed yourself about me!”

      “Because it affected myself. I had grown fond of you, and so you entered into my life. Pure selfishness, my dear!”

      “I don’t believe it! I won’t believe it! It’s no good trying to disillusion me, Charmion. I’ve put you on a topmost pinnacle, and it would take a mighty effort to tumble you down!”

      “Dear thing!” murmured Charmion fondly. “Well—suppose we talk of the drawing-room walls? I’m a great believer in occupying oneself with the next step. Revelations of character will follow in due course—I plump for white!”

      “White certainly. A warm cream white, with not a touch of blue in it. And the prevailing colour?”

      “Let’s count three quickly, and then each say what we think!”

      We counted, and the two words leapt crisply forth.

      “Rose!” said I.

      “Purple!” said Charmion. Then we looked at one another beneath puckered brows.

      “Rose lights up better!”

      “Purple is more uncommon.”

      “Rose is more cheerful in winter!”

      “Purple is restful in summer!”

      It seemed for a moment as if we had reached an impasse, then came an illuminating thought.

      “Why not—both? They harmonise well. Purple curtains and carpet—the plain colour, very soft and subdued, and cushions and shades of the right rose. With our united treasures we ought to have a lovely room. Where are your things, Charmion?”

      “Stored,” she said shortly. “I tried a house for a few months, but it was too lonely an experience. But I have a passion for beautiful furniture. It has amused me to pick up good specimens here and there. Now we shall enjoy them together! Wait till you see my Spanish leather screen!”

      “Wait till you see my Chinese cabinet!” I retorted, and we talked “things” industriously for the next hour.

      After luncheon Charmion settled herself to write business letters, drawing a big screen round her writing-table, the better, as she informed me, to protect herself against my chatter.

      “You promise to be quiet, but in five minutes’ time you begin again! Now please to remember that to all intents and purposes I am in another room, and that until I choose to come forth, I am dead to you and everyone else! Do you understand? These letters positively must get off to-night!”

      “Dear me! I don’t want to talk! I shall be thankful to sit by the fire and enjoy a quiet read,” I said loftily, and promptly drew up an old arm-chair, and buried myself in the book which I had bought to while away the hours of my journey, and then left unread, because my own affairs were at the moment so much more absorbing than those of a fictitious heroine. Now that my mind was more at ease, I found the story interesting enough, and had read on for about an hour with undisturbed enjoyment, when suddenly the door was flung open, and a voice announced:—

      “Mr. Maplestone!”

      I leapt up, putting up a hasty hand to smooth my ruffled hair. That was the worst of having only one sitting-room! Visitors were hurled in upon one without a moment’s warning. Happy Charmion behind the screen! I stared across the room and beheld a tall—very tall—thin man, with short reddish hair and light blue, angry-looking eyes. He was dressed in riding costume, which, so far as his figure went, became him exceedingly well. He was probably somewhere about thirty-five, and one glance at his tightly-set lips and firm square chin was enough to demonstrate the truth of Mr. Edwards’ assertion that he was “a gentleman who likes his own way”. He had probably heard by now that for once he was to be thwarted, and had come to tell me what he thought about it. At this moment I forgot to be sorry for his disappointment in my exceeding sympathy for myself! I glanced helplessly at the screen.

      “Mrs. Fane, I believe.”

      “I am Miss Wastneys. Mrs. Fane is engaged. Perhaps it is something that I—”

      He laid his hat and stick on the table.

      “May I have a few minutes’ conversation? You will allow me to sit down?”

      “Certainly.”

      I pushed aside the easy-chair and seated myself on one of the six “uprights” which were ranged about the room. It felt so much more business-like and supporting. Mr. Maplestone seated himself opposite to me, and rested his hands on his knees.

      “I am told that you have some idea of renting a house called Pastimes, near here!”

      “We have taken Pastimes. Mrs. Fane and myself have this morning signed the lease.”

      He waved an impatient hand.

      “This morning! So I am told. Edwards has behaved very badly. I warned him that things should not be hurried through.”

      “They have not been hurried. It is several months since Mrs. Fane first saw the house, and three weeks since negotiations were opened a second time.”

      “I only heard this week that the house was vacant.”

      “And should Mr. Edwards”—(the innocent inquiry of my voice was growing more and more marked)—“was it his duty to have told you?”

      His eyes sent out a flash. I could see the muscles of his hand clench against his knee. I had scored a point, and his anger was correspondingly increased.

      “Perhaps I had better explain,” he began in a tone of elaborate forbearance. “I live at Wembly. Most of the land between here and there belongs to me. Pastimes happens to be outside the limit, and so it escaped my memory. I have not been over it before. I did not know the last tenants. For the last few weeks I have been looking for a house for my friend—a member of the family who is returning from abroad. Invalided!”

      He pronounced the last word with emphasis, staring fixedly at me the while. I adapted my features to express polite commiseration.

      “It is natural that he should wish to live within driving distance of his friends.”

      “Oh, quite!”

      “The moment that I saw Pastimes I knew for a sure thing that it would be just his house—”

      “I am sorry, but as he has not seen it, he can’t be disappointed. There must be other houses—”

      “I have already said I have been searching round for—the—last—three—weeks,” Mr. Maplestone repeated, in the carefully deliberate tone which disguises irritation. “Nothing else will suit anything like so well.”

      I murmured indefinitely, and glanced at the screen. Mentally I could see Charmion leaning back in her chair, smiling

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