memorable occasion. In fact, until the present summer they had scarcely
met again. He was a celebrated man in the literary world, and he
travelled far and wide. He was also immensely wealthy. Men said of him
that whatever he touched turned to gold. And fame, wealth, and a certain
unobtrusive strength of personality had combined to make him popular
wherever he went.

He was more often out of England than in it, and there were even some who
suspected him of being an empire-builder, though their grounds for doing
so were but slight.

It was, however, characteristic of Chris that she never forgot her
friends, a characteristic which Trevor Mordaunt also possessed to a
marked degree. Therefore it was not surprising that soon after her first
appearance in London society he had claimed and had been readily accorded
the privileges of old acquaintanceship.

Since that day they had met casually at several functions, and people
were beginning to wonder a little at Mordaunt's unusual energy in a
social sense, for it was several years since he had brought himself to
tread the mill of a London season.

Chris always hailed his appearance with obvious pleasure, though she was
very far from connecting it in any sense with herself. He was always kind
to her, always ready to make things go smoothly for her, and she never
knew an awkward moment in his society. There were plenty of people who
spoke of him with awe, but Chris was not one of these. She never found
him in the least formidable.

And so it was with ingenuous pleasure that she anticipated his advent