The sensation that she was having a dream, a nice one, but a dream all the same, came over her.

She looked at Sarre, standing a few paces from her, his hands in his

pockets, his head a little on one side, watching her.

"Al--' she began, 'he's a c.o.c.kney!

However did he get here?

' "It's a long story.

He's been with me for a long time now.

He's a splendid fellow, I'd trust him with my life.

' "And you've got a Scottish housekeeper.

' She sounded almost accusing.

He laughed at that.

"So I have.

Poor Alethea, I do believe you expected wooden shoes and baggy

trousers.

' He was suddenly beside her, his hands on her shoulders.

"My dear, I'm unkind to tease, but I never thought to tell you about

Al--to tell you about anything, I suppose.

You are always so sensible and serene.

' "Not always," she reminded him.

He kissed her cheek.

"You are exactly the kind of wife I want--we shall get on famously," he

promised her.

Somehow the casual friendly way he said it chilled her.

CHAPTER FIVE.

it was impossible to feel chilled for long, though.

Before she had time to answer Sarre, Al was back with a tray of coffee and following hard on his heels, the housekeeper.

"Mrs McCrea," Sarre introduced her to Alethea, 'who has been with us

since I was a very small boy and is our staunch friend as well as the

best housekeeper in the world.

' "Go on with you, sir," declared Mrs McCrea comfortably, 'though I'm sure we all do our best to make you comfortable.

We all wish you and Miss Thomas a long and happy life together.

' She beamed at Alethea, her small bright blue eyes twinkling, and took the hand she was holding out.

"And here's a bonny girl," she observed, 'if you'll pardon me saying

so.

' Alethea smiled widely at her.

They were going to like each other; Mrs McCrea was small and round and

motherly and her voice was soft with the unmistakable Scottish lilt.

There wasn't an ounce of guile in her and Alethea thought that probably she had never been unkind to anyone in her life. The slight chill she had felt melted and disappeared altogether at Al's warm: "A real beaut, begging your pardon, miss.

We're proud ter 'ave your in the 'ouse.

' A remark which she rightly took to be a compliment indeed.

93 "They'll be your devoted slaves," observed Sarre when they were

alone again.

"They have been urging me to marry for several years now.

' "Oh is that why you asked me?

' Alethea hated herself for asking but her tongue had run away with

her.

He gave her a long look and she saw suddenly that his usually placid features could become ruthless and remote.

"No.

I asked you to marry me for the reasons which I gave you.

I have great regard for Al and Mrs McCrea, but neither they nor anyone else dictates my life for me.

' He moved away from the chair he had been leaning against.

"Won't you sit down and have some coffee?

' Alethea stayed just where she was.

"I've annoyed you," she said in a voice she might have used to calm a

troublesome patient, 'but I'm bound to do that, aren't I?

I don't know you at all well, you see.

I've only just realised that you have a quite nasty temper and like

your own way.

I shall do my best to keep on the right side of you, but occasionally

I'm bound to speak my mind.

' She added reasonably: "I'm not a doormat.

' Sarre gave a shout of laughter.

"My dear girl, thank G.o.d you're not!

And you're quite right; I've a bad temper, although I endeavour to keep

it within reasonable bounds, and I like my own way, too.

Now sit down, do, and pour my coffee and yours.

' He drew up a small velvet-covered armchair for her and pulled up a

ma.s.sive one for himself.

"And I know very well that you aren't a doormat.

I wouldn't be marrying you if you were.

' Alethea lifted the silver coffee pot and poured the coffee into