motor-coat, and more suede gloves and silk stockings than could be used
(it seemed to the girl) in the next ten years.

He begged for the privilege of "helping choose," not because he didn't
trust her taste, but because he feared she might be economical; and
during the whole day in Bond Street, Regent Street, Oxford Street, and
Knightsbridge she was given only an hour to herself. That hour she was
expected to pass, and did pass, in providing herself with all sorts of
intimate daintiness of nainsook, lace, and ribbon, too sacred even for
a lover's eyes.

And Knight spent the time of his absence from her upon an errand which he
did not explain.

"I'll tell you what I did--and show you--to-morrow when I come to wish
you good morning," he said. "Unless you're going to be conventional and
refuse to see me till we 'meet at the altar,' as the sentimental writers
say. I think I've heard that's the smart thing. But I hope it won't be
your way. If I didn't see you from now till to-morrow afternoon I should
be afraid I'd lost you for ever."

Annesley felt the same about him, and told him so. They dined together,
but not at the Savoy. The Countess's name was not mentioned, yet Annesley
guessed it was because of her that Knight proposed an Italian restaurant.

When he left her at last at the door of her own hotel everything was
settled for the wedding-day and after. Knight was to produce two friends,
both men, to one of whom must fall the fatherly duty of giving the bride
away. He suggested their calling upon her in the morning, while he was
with her at the Savoy, in order that they might not meet as strangers at