forward.

"Oh, Mr. Brent!" she cried, "my old friend, Mrs. Holt, is here, and she's
going to take dinner with us and come down to Quicksands for the night.
May I introduce Mr. Brent."

"Wasn't it fortunate, Mr. Brent, that Mrs. Spence happened to find me?"
said Mrs. Holt, as she took his hand. "I know it is a relief to you."

It was not often, indeed, that Trixton Brent was taken off his guard; but
some allowance must be made for him, since he was facing a situation
unparalleled in his previous experience. Virtue had not often been so
triumphant, and never so dramatic as to produce at the critical instant
so emblematic a defender as this matronly lady in dove colour. For a
moment, he stared at her, speechless, and then he gathered himself
together.

"A relief?" he asked.

"It would seem so to me," said Mrs. Holt. "Not that I do not think you
are perfectly capable of taking care of her, as an intimate friend of her
husband. I was merely thinking of the proprieties. And as I am a guest in
this hotel, I expect you both to do me the honour to dine with me before
we start for Quicksands."

After all, Trixton Brent had a sense of humour, although it must not be
expected that he should grasp at once all the elements of a joke on
himself so colossal.

"I, for one," he said, with a slight bow which gave to his words a touch