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 Eyes wondering, she moved her head slowly from side to side. "Hear what?"

"I fancied that you had waited a moment on the veranda," he finessed.

"Oh, I was quite too frightened. …"

He took this for a complete denial. Better and better! He had actually feared that she had eaves-dropped, however warrantably; and Maitland's authoritative way with the servants had been too convincingly natural to have deceived a woman of her keen wits.

There followed a lull while Anisty was ordering the luncheon: something he did elaborately and with success, telling himself humorously: "Hang the expense! Maitland pays." Of which fact the weight in his pocket was assurance.

Maitland. … Anisty's thoughts verged off upon an interesting tangent. What was Maitland's motive in arranging this meeting? It was self-evident that the twain were of one world—the girl and the man of fashion. But, whatever her right of heritage, she had renounced it, declassing herself by