"Why, is he so big?" jocularly.

"There's six foot five-and-a-half of him."

"Whew! And thin as a lathe, I suppose; a sort of animated telegraph pole."

"No; broad in proportion, cut to measure absolutely."

"Then he is a fine fellow," with conviction.

Lorraine felt a swift glow of pride, and then inwardly admonished herself for being silly. What, after all, was size? As Hal had trenchantly remarked, plenty of London policemen were just as big and fine. Half in self-defence she added:

"He has brains as well, and he is as handsome as Apollo."

"Then run," was the laconic response; "don't stop to buy a ticket; pay the other end."

She smiled, but grew suddenly serious. Leaning forward with eyes straining hard to the horizon, she said: "Flip, I've had a hard life, in spite of the success. Shall I run?... or... shall I stay, and s.n.a.t.c.h joy, while there is still time?"

He looked at her with a growing interest.

"If I were you I should run," he said; "but, all the same, I think you'll stay."

"No; I don't think I shall. There are other reasons. He is a good deal younger than I - and - well, I've a fair amount on my soul already."

The tired shadow was coming back to her eyes, but she laughed suddenly with an attempt at gaiety.

"You ought to have heard Hal Pritchard on the subject. She remarked there were plenty of London policemen just as big, and suggested if I wanted a fine young animal to play with, I should be safer with a polar bear from the Zoo."

"Well done, Hal. We ought to have brought her. Where is she to-day?"

"Careering across England in a haphazard fashion with her cousin d.i.c.k Bruce. Do you mind turning towards home now? I'm dinning out, and have some letters to write."

"Who's the happy man to-night? ... I thought of course I was to have the whole day."

"With a view to getting wholesomely bored! No, Flip, I don't propose to let you find that way out just yet."

"I should have found it for myself long ago if it were possible. As it is, I have grown resigned, and accept what crumbs fall to my portion."

He paused a moment and then asked, "Is it Goliath to-night?"

"It is."

"Rash woman; and just when I have advised you to run."

"But it is not in the least serious yet. I only asked you in view of it becoming so."

"Which means you will try and start to run, _after_ you are firmly in the trap."

"Not at all. I won't go near the trap. I'll tell him I'm old enough to be his mother, and talk down to him from years of detestable common sense and sagacity."

"Which sounds as if it would be even duller than dining with me."

"Oh no. It holds novelty anyway. You are never dull, but likewise you are no longer novel."

They made for the high roads again, and spun along mostly in silence until the car once more came to a standstill at Lorraine's door.

"Come in," she said, "I've lots of time."

"No,' with a little smile. "I've had my crumbs for the day. I'm going to have a good solid crust now to keep the balance. Do you know Lottie Bird?... Fourteen stone, if she's an ounce, and a tongue like a sixty-horse-power motor. There are times when she's so d.a.m.ned practical and overpowering she does me good. This is one of them.

Good-bye. Don't kill the giant with a glance; and don't be silly enough to get hurt yourself."

"All right. I'll go in full armour," and she nodded gaily enough as he moved off down the street.

CHAPTER XI

What Lorraine exactly meant by full armour she did not quite know, but it might very well have been taken to mean the shining armour of her own best loveliness. Certainly after no small consideration she chose what she believed to be her most becoming gown, and she was unusually critical about the dressing of her hair.

All the same, at 7.45 she was ready, and her cavalier had not yet arrived. She waited five minutes until he came, and then it was necessary to wait another five minutes that he might not know she had been more up to time than he. Then she entered the drawing-room in a little bit of a hurry, and cut short his simple, direct apologies by regretting her own tardiness, and saying she had been out motoring until late.

But she had time to note quickly that he also had dressed himself with special care, plastering down resolutely the unruly determination of his fair hair to curl. That was good. Any suggestion of a curl must have produced an effect of effeminacy, whereas that neat, plastered wave showed the shapeliness of his head, and gave him a touch of manly decision. Her electric brougham was at the door, but she kept it waiting a few minutes, that they might be later than the majority of diners, and pa.s.s up a well-filled room.

In the end their arrival was equal to her best expectations. She led the way slowly, with a queenly grace that was one of her best attributes; but as she nodded casually to an acquaintance here and there, she had plenty of time to observe the curious eyes from all around, looking with undisguised admiration, not so much at her faultless appearance, which was more or less known, but at her striking cavalier.

She had engaged a small table at one of the top corners and arranged the seats sideways, so that both could look over the room if they wanted to, and at the same time be easily seen by others. She did this because it amused her to see people gazing at him, and to watch his quiet self-possession. She almost wondered if he even realised how much attention he attracted, but perceived that he could hardly help doing so, though he took it all with so simple and unabashed an air.

She watched also to see if, as most of the strikingly handsome men she had known, he courted tell-tale glances from other eyes, and sipped honey from any flower within reach, as well as from his own particular flower. And when she found that his absolute and undivided attention was given to her, and that all the power of entertaining he could muster was called into her service, she felt a glow of grat.i.tude to him that he had not disappointed her, but proved himself the simple, high-bred gentleman she longed to find him.

It made her show herself to him at her very best. Not showily witty, nor callously gay, nor fashionably original, but just her own self of light humour and dainty speech and kindly sympathy, the true, best self that held Hal's unswerving devotion through good account and ill.

Unconsciously she left the time-worn paths of beauty and success, and became young, and fresh, and whole-hearted as he; tackling abstruse problems with a childlike, vigorous air; holding him spell-bound with her own charm of conversation one moment, and leading him on to talk with ease and frankness the next.

The other diners got up and retired to the lounge, and still they sat on; no hint of boredom, no note of disparity, no need of other companionship. As they were preparing to rise, she told him lightly that he talked amazingly well for his tender years.

"Only twenty-four," he answered; "it does seem a kiddish age, doesn't it!"

"Dreadfully kiddish. It makes me feel old enough to be your grandmother."

He glanced up, half-questioning, half-deprecating.

"That would be the oddest thing of all, unless I really appear to be about twenty years before my time."

For a reason she could not have fathomed, she looked into his eyes with a sudden seriousness and said:

"I was thirty-two last week."

She saw a quick look of surprise he did not attempt to hide, followed by a very charming smile, as he a.s.serted: