"Does she think he is going to pay for them?" asked Bob.

"It doesn't matter what she thinks"; Feather laughed very prettily.

"Doesn't it?"

"Not a bit. I shall have the dresses. What's the matter, Rob? You
look quite red and cross."

"I've had a headache for three days," he answered, "and I feel
hot and cross. I don't care about a lot of things you say, Feather."

"Don't be silly," she retorted. "I don't care about a lot of things
you say--and do, too, for the matter of that."

Robert Gareth-Lawless who was sitting on a chair in her dressing-room
grunted slightly as he rubbed his red and flushed forehead.

"There's a--sort of limit," he commented. He hesitated a little
before he added sulkily "--to the things one--SAYS."

"That sounds like Alice," was her undisturbed answer. "She used
to squabble at me because I SAID things. But I believe one of
the reasons people like me is because I make them laugh by SAYING
things. Lord Coombe laughs. He is a very good person to know,"
she added practically. "Somehow he COUNTS. Don't you recollect
how before we knew him--when he was abroad so long--people used
to bring him into their talk as if they couldn't help remembering
him and what he was like. I knew quite a lot about him--about