"Don't tantalise me," he begged.

"We really must decide upon something," she insisted. "I hate giving up
my rooms here, I should hate having my worthy aunt as resident duenna,
and I suppose it would be gloriously improper for us two to go on living
here if I didn't. Are you quite sure that you love me, Nigel?"

"I am not quite so sure as I was this morning," he confessed, holding
out his cup for some more tea. "I met a perfectly adorable girl to-day
at luncheon at the Ritz. Such eyes, Maggie, and the slimmest, most
wonderful figure you ever saw!"

"Who was the cat?" Maggie enquired with asperity.

"She is Russian. Her name is Naida Karetsky. Karschoff introduced me."

Maggie was suddenly serious. There was just a trace of the one
expression he had never before seen in her face--fear--lurking in her
eyes, even asserting itself in her tone.

"Naida Karetsky?" she repeated. "Tell me exactly how you met her?"

"She was lunching with her father and Oscar Immelan. She stopped to
speak to Karschoff and asked him to present me. Afterwards, she invited
us to take coffee in the lounge."

"She went out of her way to make your acquaintance, then?"

"Yes, I suppose she did."