I do."

They entered the garden, Mannering, bareheaded, following his guest.
Borrowdean watched them closely as they approached. The woman's
expression was purely negative. There was nothing to be learned from the
languid smile with which she recognized their presence. Upon Mannering,
however, the cloud seemed already to have fallen. His eyebrows were set
in a frown. He had the appearance of a man in some manner perplexed. He
carried two telegrams, which he handed over to Borrowdean.

"A boy on a bicycle," he remarked, "is waiting for answers. Two telegrams
at once is a thing wholly unheard of here, Borrowdean. You really ought
not to have disturbed our postal service to such an extent."

Borrowdean smiled as he tore them open.

"I think," he said, "that I can guess their contents. Yes, I thought so.
Can you send me to the station, Mannering?"

"I can--if it is necessary," Mannering answered. "Must you really go?"

Borrowdean nodded.

"I must be in the House to-night," he said, a little wearily. "Rochester
is going for them again."

"You didn't take a pair?" Mannering asked.

"It isn't altogether that," Borrowdean answered, "though Heaven knows we
can't spare a single vote just now. Rochester wants me to speak. We are a