"What time, Dick?" said Miss Van Tuyn, rather eagerly.

"You might look in about three."

"I will. That's a bargain."

Garstin turned on his heel and tramped away towards Berkeley Street.

"You are going home by Park Lane?" said Braybrooke, feeling greatly
relieved, but still rather upset.

"Yes. But why don't you take me somewhere to tea?"

"Nothing I should like better. Where shall we go?"

"Let's go to the Ritz. I had meant to walk, but let us take a taxi."

There was suddenly a change in Miss Van Tuyn. Braybrooke noticed it at
once. She seemed suddenly restless, almost excited, and as if she were
in a hurry.

"There's one!" she added, lifting her tightly furled umbrella.

The driver stopped, and in a moment they were on their way to the Ritz.

"You like Dick Garstin?" said Braybrooke, pulling up one of the windows
and wondering what Miss Cronin would say if she could see him at this
moment.

"I don't like him," returned Miss Van Tuyn. "No one could do that. But I