"_So_ ducky, I always think him, though not pretty," returned the
Cassowary.

As they left the dining-room Kingsmead whispered to his sister, "I say,
Bicky, look out for Ponty. He's a bit boiled."




CHAPTER THREE


"If I do, they will say that I am in love with some man who either won't
have me, or is already married, or that I am forced to, by my debts. If
I don't--then this will go on indefinitely, and some fine day I shall
jump into the carp-pond and drown in four feet of nasty, slimy water."

Brigit Mead stood behind the heavy curtains by an open window and
whispered the above reflections to herself. It was a trick she had in
moments of intense concentration, and the sharp, hissing sound of the
last words was so distinct that she involuntarily turned to see that she
had not been overheard.

No, it was all right, everyone was busy with the preparations for the
evening's work, except Joyselle, who sat at the piano and was playing,
very softly, a little thing of Grieg's.

The great hall looked almost empty in spite of its nine occupants, and
the electric lamps threw little pools of light on the polished floor.