“Oh, can I?” exclaimed Chris.  “How heavenly!  Then I will get Rupert to come too.  I wish Noel might, but I suppose he is out of the question.”

She slipped a hand surreptitiously inside Jack’s arm as her aunt moved away, and squeezed it.  She knew quite well that the party itself had been of his devising—­an informal dance to celebrate her twenty-first birthday, which was less than a fortnight away.

Jack smiled upon her indulgently.  “Are you going to ask me to your birthday party, Chris?”

“No,” said Chris.  “I shall never ask you anywhere.  You have a free pass always so far as I am concerned.”

He made her a low bow.  “You listening, Trevor?  I’ll bet she never said that to you.”

But Chris turned swiftly away towards her fiance.  “There is no need to say anything of that sort to Trevor,” she said, in her quick way.  “He understands without.”

“Thank you,” said Trevor quietly.

Jack laughed.  “One to you, my boy!  I admit it frankly.  By the way, I heard a funny story about you yesterday.  Someone said you were turning your rooms in Clive Street into a home for sick organ-grinders.  Is it true by any chance?”

“Not strictly,” said Mordaunt.

“Nor strictly untrue either,” commented Jack.  “I know the sort of thing.  You are always doing it.  Was it a child or a woman or a monkey this time?”

“It was a man,” said Mordaunt.

“A man!  A friend of yours, I suppose?” Jack smiled over the phrase.  He had heard it on Mordaunt’s lips more than once.

“Exactly.  A friend of mine.”  The tone of Mordaunt’s reply did not encourage further inquiries.

Chris, glancing at him, saw a slight frown between his brows, and promptly changed the subject.

“It’s really rather good of Aunt Philippa to let me have the boys here,” she said later, when they were alone together for a moment just before he took his departure.  “She never gets on with them, especially Max.  Of course it’s partly his fault.  I hope you will like each other, Trevor.”

By which sentence Trevor divined that this was her favourite brother.

“We shall get on all right,” he said.

“It isn’t everyone that likes Max,” she said.  “But he’s tremendously nice really, and very clever.  What time will you be here to-morrow?  I must try not to keep you waiting.”

But of course when the morning came she did keep him waiting.  With the best intentions, Chris seldom managed to be ready for anything.  And Mordaunt had nearly half an hour to wait before she joined him.

She raced down at last with airy apology.  “I’m very sorry really.  But it was Cinders’ fault.  We went to be photographed, and I couldn’t get him to sit at the right angle.  And then when I got back I had to dress, and everything went wrong.”

She was carrying Cinders under her arm and evidently meant him to join their expedition.  She did not look as if everything had gone wrong with her, neither did she look particularly penitent.  She laughed up at him merrily, and he—­because he could not help it—­drew her to him and kissed her.