twelve thirty-five. It's a quarter past now, and it can't be done." "Yes, it can," said Dick. "Grab your hat and tie it on, while I get my car." Randal, coming from his study, was in time to see the car vanish in a cloud of dust. "Where are they going?" he asked. "To catch the twelve thirty-five," replied Amaryllis. "Dick says he can do it in seven and a half minutes." Randal not only noticed the christian name, but also the girl's unconsciousness of having used it. "They want father at the Home Office. Who's Sir Charles Colombe, Sir Randal?" she asked. "Permanent Under Secretary," he answered. "I suppose Broadfoot is making trouble again." And he looked at her as if he were thinking of Amaryllis rather than of permanent or political chiefs of Home Affairs. "This is Friday, you know," he said at last. "Yes," replied the girl, and Randal thought her face showed embarrassment—but of what nature, he could not tell. "I won't spoil your lunch, my dear child," he said, looking down at her with eyes curiously contracted. "But if you'll give me half an hour in the afternoon——" "Of course I will," she replied, with frank kindness. "And, oh! may I have a lemon-squash?" A little later, as he watched her drink it, he admired her more than ever before. Since he first met her he had taken increasing pleasure from the tall figure, of which the fine lines and just proportions hid the strength and energy he had seen her upon occasion display; and he had often asked himself in what attitude or action her inherent grace appeared most charming. Sometimes it was driving from the tee, at another taking a swift volley which she must run to meet; or, again, just pouring out his coffee. But now, lounging on the old leather sofa, with her head tipped well back for red lips and white teeth to capture the slip of ice sliding to them from the bottom of the long tumbler, he thought her the very perfection of innocent freedom and symmetry. And when the ice was crunched and swallowed, she laughed joyously, showing
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