Deane followed her obediently into the florist's opposite. She chose a great bowl of pink roses and some white lilac.

"How many of the roses, madam?" the shopman asked her.

She looked at him with faintly upraised eyebrows. "Oh! send them as they are," she answered carelessly.

"There are four dozen, madam," the man remarked, bowing.

She nodded indifferently. The fact that they were a shilling each did not appear to interest her.

"Is that all the lilacs you have?" she asked, as they were leaving the shop.

"All we have at present, madam," the man answered.

"Please get some more," she said, "if you can. These hotel sitting-rooms," she added, turning to Deane, "seem to have a sort of odor of their own. One can only get rid of it by having flowers everywhere. Now I am going in here," she said, stopping at a tiny milliner's. "You must wait for me--I know you are dying to smoke a cigarette--but you had better give me your pocket-book."

"I am afraid," Deane answered imperturbably, "that its contents will be of little use to you, for I have only twenty pounds with me. If you will take these"--he handed her the notes--"I will take a taximeter and cash a cheque. I shall only be a few minutes."

She nodded, and disappeared into the shop. When she came out again Deane had returned from his little expedition, and was talking to some men whom he knew. They glanced at Winifred a little curiously as they raised their hats and pa.s.sed on.

"We can perhaps continue our shopping," Deane said, "more comfortably now."

She ignored the faint note of satire in his tone. "One needs so many things," she murmured. "The woman inside is just making out my bill. I think I shall want another thirty pounds."

"I am afraid," he said, "that you have not been able to find what you wanted. The amount seems trivial."

"Well," she said, "there was a lace dressing-gown about which I could not quite make up my mind. Perhaps, after all, I had better have it."

She turned back into the shop, and he followed her. The lace dressing-gown was still lying upon a chair, and in a few moments Deane found it being held up before him by a vivacious little Frenchwoman, who was endeavoring to convince him that in it Madame would look a dream. It was very filmy, very dainty, wonderfully expensive. Deane heard the price without moving a muscle.

"I think you had better have it," he said. "I am sure," he went on, looking into her eyes, "that you will look charming in it."

For the first time he seemed to score. She bent over some lace handkerchiefs, as though anxious to avoid his gaze. "Very well," she said, "I think that will be all now. Please pay, and let us go."

Once more they were in the streets.

"I want a dressing-bag," she said, a little abruptly.

"By all means," he answered. "We had better go back to the jeweller's.

Do you prefer mother-of-pearl fittings, or gold?"

"I am not sure," she answered. "I should like to look at some."

They were twenty minutes or so making a selection. Deane wrote another cheque, and stuffed another receipt into his pocket. He had made a few suggestions himself, which had increased the cost considerably.

"Where to now?" he asked.

"I want some gloves," she said. "Perhaps you would rather go back to your office now. I must not take up your whole afternoon."

"I am entirely at your service," he a.s.sured her. "Believe me, I find shopping quite an interesting novelty."

"You mean," she said, "that you like to watch the effect upon me. You think I don't understand. It is quite easy. Tell me how I seem to you?"

"You seem very much to the manner born," he answered, "but you seem also, if I may say so, as though you were getting rid of the pent-up desires of years. For instance," he added, as they strolled along the south side of the street, "there is a certain almost fierceness--I won't say barbarism--in the way you absorb the things you desire. I am not complaining," he added quickly. "As a matter of fact, I am rather inclined to welcome any note of humanity. So long as we are engaged," he added, looking at her sideways, "one would just as soon feel that one were engaged to a living person as an automaton."

She kept her eyes averted, but he saw the faint spot of color burning in her cheeks.

"This is where I think I shall get the gloves I want," she said.

"I will come in with you, if I may," he answered.

Her purchases here showed a little more restraint. Nevertheless, everything she chose was the best of its sort. When she came out, her appet.i.te seemed somehow whetted. She walked along the street almost listlessly.

"Do you know that it is nearly half-past four?" he said. "You had better let me give you some tea."

She nodded indifferently. "Thank you. That would be very nice."

"Will you come to my rooms," he asked, "or shall we go into the Carlton and hear the music?"

She looked at him quickly, and then back into a shop window. "To the Carlton, if you please," she said coldly.

They walked to the corner of the street and stood waiting while the brougham came round to them. She turned toward a florist's and looked into the window.

"You would like some more flowers?" he asked.

She led him into the shop without a word. There was a cl.u.s.ter of red roses over which she bent and selected one. "I should like this, please," she said.

"One only, madam?" the shopman asked.

"One only," she answered composedly. "I will pin it in here if you will cut the stalk a little," she added, removing a brooch from the bosom of her gown. "Will you pay for this, please?" she added, turning to Deane.

He was taken aback for a moment. "You are sure that there is nothing else?" he asked.

"Nothing," she answered.

They left the shop and he handed her into the brougham. Deane was suddenly conscious that his pulse was beating a little faster, even though her fingers had lain in his absolutely unresponsive. He was wondering what sort of a whim it was which had led her to desire that one flower.

CHAPTER XV

A FRIEND

A man in the city, who was an old friend of Lord Nunneley, stopped the latter as he was on the point of entering his club.

"By the bye, Nunneley," he said, "did I understand--I think I saw it in the papers--that the marriage between your daughter and Stirling Deane was off?"

"The engagement has been broken off," answered Lord Nunneley, a little stiffly. "Why?"