who wanted him to give her daughter a cup of tea; so that by the time
Dick reached her Lord Bearwarden had left Miss Bruce to the attentions
of another guest, more smart than gentlemanlike, in whose appearance
there was something indefinably out of keeping with the rest. Dick
started. It was the man with whom he had seen Maud walking before
luncheon in the Square.

People were pairing for a dance on the lawn, and Mr. Stanmore, wedged
in by blocks of beauty and mountains of muslin, could neither advance
nor retreat. It was no fault of his that he overheard Miss Bruce's
conversation with the stranger.

"_Will_ you dance with me?" said the latter, in a whisper of
suppressed anger, rather than the tone of loving entreaty with which
it is customary to urge this pleasant request.

"Impossible!" answered Maud energetically. "I'm engaged to Lord
Bearwarden--it's the Lancers, and he's only gone to make up the set."

The man ground his teeth and knit his brows.

"You seem to forget," he muttered--"you carry it off with too high a
hand. I have a right to bid you dance with me. I have a right, if I
chose, to order you down to the river there and row you back to Putney
with the tide; and I _will_, I swear, if you provoke me too far."

She seemed to keep her temper with an effort.

"_Do_ be patient," she whispered, glancing round at the bystanders.
"Surely you can trust me. Hush! here comes Lord Bearwarden."