Stair surveyed her with a twinkle as he retrieved her plate of kidneys
and bacon from the hearth where it had been set down to keep hot.

"Diana, I regret to observe that your conversation lacks the flavour of
respectability demanded by your present circumstances," he remarked.
"I fear you'll never be an ornament to any clerical household."

"No. _Pas mon métier_. Respectability isn't in the least a _sine qua
non_ for a prima donna--far from it!"

Stair chuckled.

"To hear you talk, no one would imagine that in reality you were the
most conventional of prudes," he flung at her.

"Oh, but I'm growing out of it," she returned hopefully. "Yesterday,
for instance, I palled up with a perfectly strange young man. We
conversed together as though we had known each other all our lives,
shared the same table for dinner--"

"You didn't?" broke in Joan, a trifle shocked.

Diana nodded serenely.

"Indeed I did. And what was the reward of my misdeeds? Why, there he
was at hand to save me when the smash came!"

"Who was he?" asked Joan curiously. "Any one from this part of the
world?"