to be enfolded in the outstretched arms.

'Tell me, Cynthia,' resumed Mrs Ford, 'how did you do it? I was
telling Lord Mountry that I _hoped_ I might see my Ogden again
soon, but I never really hoped. It seemed too impossible that you
should succeed.'

'This Lord Mountry of yours,' said Cynthia. 'How did you get to
know him? Why have I not seen him before?'

'I met him in Paris in the fall. He has been out of London for a
long time, looking after his father, who was ill.'

'I see.'

'He has been most kind, making arrangements about getting Ogden's
portrait painted. But, bother Lord Mountry. How did we get
sidetracked on to him? Tell me how you got Ogden away.'

Cynthia yawned.

'It was extraordinarily easy, as it turned out, you see.'

'Ogden, darling,' observed Mrs Ford, 'don't go away. I want you
near me.'

'Oh, all right.'

'Then stay by me, angel-face.'