"No. I mean she told me to ask you what you want."

Miss Cronin looked at Mrs. Clem Hodson, hesitated, and then made a very
definite rabbit's mouth.

"I don't know that I want anything, thank you, Mr. Braybrooke. But if
Beryl is going--she is not going?"

"I really don't know exactly."

"She hasn't finished her tea, perhaps?"

"I don't know for certain. But she asked me to tell you she wasn't
coming back yet"--the two old ladies exchanged glances which Braybrooke
longed to contradict--"as she is going to call on Lady Sellingworth
presently."

"Ah!" said Mrs. Clem Hodson, gazing steadily at Fanny Cronin.

"In Berkeley Square!" added Braybrooke emphatically. "And to-night she
is dining out."

"Did she say where?" asked Miss Cronin, slightly moving her ears.

"No; she didn't."

"Thank you," said Miss Cronin. "Good-bye, Mr. Braybrooke."

She held out her hand like one making a large and difficult concession
to her own Christianity. Mrs. Clem Hodson bowed again from the waist and