Isn't he, Théo?"

Brigit had never been so happy. It was all like a dream, these
warm-hearted, simple-minded people, the father and mother so ready to
love her for the son's sake, the mental atmosphere so different from
that to which she was accustomed. She felt younger and, somehow, better
than ever before. And Théo would be very helpful to Tommy, and Tommy's
joy, in hearing Joyselle play, something very beautiful. She had sent a
wire to her mother the night before at the station, but her mother would
not answer it, and there were at least several hours between her and the
moment when she must leave Golden Square. The very name was beautiful!

It was raining hard, and the blurred windows seemed a kind of magic
barrier between her and the tiresome old world outside.

Then there came a ring at the door, and a moment later Toinon, the
red-elbowed maid-of-all-work, appeared, very much alarmed, carrying a
card, which she gave to Brigit.

"Oh, dear--it is poor Ponty!" ejaculated the girl, involuntarily turning
to Joyselle.

"Poor----"

"Lord Pontefract, Théo. Oh, how _tiresome_ of mother!"

Joyselle frowned. "Do not call your mother tiresome," he said shortly.
"But who is this gentleman?"

Théo stood silently looking on. It was plain that it seemed to him quite