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He bent down to replace the bedclothes which the sick man had thrown off, and as he did so, a faint perfume, sickly and rich, struck his nostrils. It seemed to come from the bandages at the back of the head, and on bending down for a closer inspection, Jen saw that one of these--it was the merest corner which peeped out--was of finer linen than the rest. The fabric was cambric, and with a start which made the blood turn to ice in his veins, Jen realized that it was a woman's handkerchief--its delicacy and border-embroideries assured him of this.,

Patricia opened her eyes wide. "Why, Bruce is the most amiable sort," she protested. "He'll simply eat out of your hand up at home. I didn't know he ever criticized here," she ended, rather suspiciously.,

CHAPTER XV AFTERNOON TEA,

Again Miss Jinny interrupted. "I got your negligees and all from Mrs. Hudson this morning," she chuckled. "She knows you won't be back, and she's just as well pleased, for she's a good chance to rent your rooms right away, and I told her to go ahead. She'll keep your things till tomorrow or the next day. Now, come along and choose bunks, though there isn't much choice, for there is only one big room with three beds in it. Mama and I are right next to you, you see."

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"What do you think of the artists now?" asked Patricia, leaning back in the carriage as they were being whirled homeward. "Are they such serious people as you thought them, Norn?",

"My word, she wasn't shy, was she?" interpolated Patricia, much diverted.,

Finally, Isabella decided to slip round by the back of the house and meet Maurice at the gate. Dido was occupied in questioning Battersea about the devil-stick on the verandah. So, after a glance to assure herself that the pair were in earnest conversation, Isabella put on a straw hat and ran lightly away to see her lover. She passed out by a side door, danced like a fairy across the intervening space of lawn, and slipped laughingly into the narrow path which wound through the wood to the avenue near the gates.,

"Over twenty, and most of the time I am so hungry I could eat Aunt Adeline. I dream about Billy, fried with cream gravy," I answered, as I kissed again the back of the head that was beginning to nod down against my breast. Long shadows lay across the garden, and the white-headed old snow-ball was signalling out of the dusk to a Dorothy Perkins rose down the walk in a scandalous way. At best, spring is just the world's match-making old chaperon, and ought to be watched. I still sat on the grass, and I began to cuddle Billy's bare knees in the skirt of my dress so the gnats couldn't get at them.