distinction which the Baroness never failed to recognize. She put down
her glasses and looked across at Louise with a smile. She was quite
prepared to approve.

The young man stopped at their table and addressed himself directly to
Louise. The Baroness frowned as she saw how scanty were the signs of
encouragement in her young companion's face. She leaned a little forward,
ready at the first signs of an introduction to make every effort to atone
for Louise's coldness by a most complete amiability. This young man
should not be driven away if she could help it!

"I have been hoping, Miss Fitzmaurice," Wrayson said calmly, "that I
might meet you somewhere."

She shrank a little back for a moment. There flashed across her face a
quiver, as though of pain.

"Why do you think," she asked, "that that is my name?"

"Your father, Colonel Fitzmaurice, is one of my best friends," he
answered gravely. "I was at his house yesterday. I only came up this
morning. I beg your pardon! You are not well!"

Every vestige of colour had left her cheeks. The Baroness touched her
foot under the table, and Louise found her voice with an effort.

"How did you know that Colonel Fitzmaurice was my father?" she asked
breathlessly.

"I found a picture in your sister's album," he answered.