Patricia clapped her hands. "Oh! how splendid! Of course! You see I said that you were Major Brown, I can easily tell them that they misunderstood and that it was Major Bowen. They are such awful cats, and if they found out I should have to leave. You see that's some of them at the next table there. That's Miss Wangle with the lorgnettes and the other woman is Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe, who is her echo, and the man is Mr. Bolton. He's nothing in particular." "I see," said Bowen. "And--and--of course you've got to pretend to be most awfully glad to see me. You see we haven't met for a long time and--and--we're engaged." "I quite understand," was the reply. Then suddenly Patricia caught his eye and saw the smile in it."Oh, how dreadful!" she cried. "Of course you don't know anything about it. I'm talking like a schoolgirl. You see my name's Patricia, Patricia Brent," and then she plunged into the whole story, telling him frankly of her escapade. He was strangely easy to talk to. "And--and--" she concluded, "what do you think of me?" "I think I'd sooner not tell you just now," he smiled. "Is it as bad as that," she enquired. Then suddenly the smile faded from his face and he leaned across to her, saying: "Miss Brent----" "I'm afraid you must call me Patricia," she interrupted with a comical look, "in case they overhear. It seems rather sudden, doesn't it, and I shall have to call you----" "Peter," he said. He had nice eyes Patricia decided. "Er--er--Peter," she made a dash at the name. Bowen sat back in his chair and laughed. Miss Wangle fixed upon him a stare through her lorgnettes, not an unfavourable stare, she was greatly impressed by his rank and red tabs. After that the ice seemed broken and Patricia and her "fiancé" chatted merrily together, greatly impressing Patricia's fellow-boarders. Bowen was a good talker and a sympathetic listener and, above all, his attitude had in it that deference which put Patricia entirely at her ease. She told him all there was to tell about herself
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