"More than one? Good G.o.d, no! One's enough!" said Savile, with a sigh.

"After all," said Dolly very prettily, "I do trust you, Savile."

Savile was intensely pleased, but he only answered gruffly, "That's as well to know!"

"Then I'll try not to be jealous of her. I won't think about her at all."

"No, I shouldn't," said Savile.

"Then we are engaged," said Dolly again, "definitely?"

"Of course we are. And look here, you've got to do what I tell you."

"What am I to do?"

"You're to be jolly, just as you used to be; you're to come and meet me here every day, and--I'm not quite sure we really saw Madame Tussaud's properly that day."

"Well, you were so cross, Savile."

"I shan't be cross now. I'll take you there, and we'll have tea. Could you go to-day?"

"I think, just to-day," said Dolly, "I _might_ be allowed. A particular friend of mamma's is coming to-day whom she hasn't seen for ages. She told me not to come into the drawing-room."

"All right. Run in now and fix it up."

"Mamma," said Dolly, "will expect me to go to the De Saules; but as my holiday task is about Charles II, and we shall see him at the waxworks----"

"I leave all that to you," said Savile.

"Very well, then. Come and fetch me at three. I'm sure I can arrange it.

Won't Robert be surprised!"

"One more thing," said Savile rather sternly. "Remember that I don't care _two_ straws whether he's surprised or not, and I don't want his name mentioned again."

"Then it's not to annoy him?"

"No. It's to please me. Us."

"Very well."

She gave him her hand.

"And you won't even--now that we're engaged properly--give up seeing--The Other Girl on Wednesday?" she pleaded.

Savile frowned darkly.

"You may be sure I shall do the right thing," he said rather grandly, "and you're not to refer to her again. I've told you I shall only see her once, and that's enough for you."

"I think you are very tyrannical," said Dolly, pouting.

"That won't do you any harm, my dear."

"And--you don't seem fond of me a bit!"

"Yes I am. What a fool you are! I'm awfully fond of you, Dolly."

"And are you very happy?"

"Yes, very fairly happy," said Savile. "And mind you have that powder all brushed out of your hair. I don't like it."

They walked to the gate.

"I really have missed you awfully, dear," said Savile gently.

"You have your faults, Savile, but you are reliable, I _will_ say that."

"Rather," said Savile. "I'll bring you a ring this afternoon or to-morrow."

"What! How lovely! But I shan't be allowed to wear it."

"Then keep it till you can."

"It's very sweet of you. Good-bye, Savile."

"Good-bye, dear. I say, Dolly?"

"Yes?"

"Oh, nothing!"

CHAPTER XXII

SAVILE AND JASMYN

Savile had written asking Jasmyn Vere to see him on a matter of importance.

Jasmyn promptly and courteously made an appointment, and spent the intervening hours chuckling to himself at the solemn tone of the letter, and wondering what in Heaven's name the child could possibly want.

He received Savile in a kind of winter garden, or conservatory at the back of his house, and went to meet him with the most charming cordiality, to put the boy at his ease. He would have been rather surprised had he known that something about his reddish hair, and his mouth open with hospitable welcome against the green background, reminded the boy irresistibly of an amiable gold-fish.

"So delighted, dear boy, that you should have thought of me. Anything, of course, in the world that I could do for you, or for any of your charming family, I should look upon as a real privilege. Have a cigarette? You smoke, of course? You oughtn't to. Take this nice comfortable chair--not that one, it's horrid--and tell me all about it."

"Thanks, awfully," said Savile seriously, intensely amused at his host's nervous, elaborate politeness, and trying hard to repress the inclination to laugh that Jasmyn always inspired in him. How fluttered and flattered the dear old thing seemed! Savile wasn't a bit frightened of him.