"You've made up for it by arriving early to-day, at any rate," said
Viviette.

"And I'm making up for it further by coming to dinner to-night. Dick
asked me," he added, seeing the polite questioning in her eyes.

"That will be very nice," she said. "You can talk to mother. You see,
Dick talks to Mrs. Holroyd, who is staying with us, Austin talks to me,
so poor mother is left out in the cold. She'll enjoy a nice long talk
with you."

When Banstead took the chorus out to supper he had the ready repartee of
his kind. In such a case he would have told the lady not to pull his
leg. But the delicate mockery in Viviette's face seemed to forbid the
use of this figure of speech, and as his vocabulary did not readily
allow him to formulate the idea in other terms he said nothing, but
settled his stock, and looked at her adoringly. At last he bent forward,
after a glance at the protectors, and said in a low tone:

"Come out into the garden. I've something to say to you."

"Why not say it here?" she replied in her ordinary voice.

Banstead bit his lip. He would have liked to call her a little devil.
But he reflected that if he did she would be quite capable of repeating
the phrase aloud, somewhat to the astonishment of Dick and Austin, who
might ask for embarrassing explanations. Instead he bent still nearer,
and whispered:

"I can only say it to you alone. I've been awake all night thinking of