“You are too clever for me,” says she.

“And you—­what are you?  Too good for me, perhaps.”

“I don’t think you ought to say things you don’t mean,” says Tita.  “But as you have made that promise—­why, you may take me down now.”

She leans towards him, holding out her arms.  He takes her into his, and brings her slowly, carefully to the grass beside him.  Even when safely landed here he still holds her.

“We are friends?” asks he.

His tone is a question.

“Yes, yes, of course,” impatiently.  “Are they playing tennis?  Do you think they want me?”

It is impossible for him to misunderstand her meaning.  A longing to get back to the others to play, and win at her favourite game of tennis, has been in part the cause of her ready forgiveness.

“Certainly they want you,” says he, surprised at himself for the touch of chagrin he feels.  “But,” still holding her, “you have quite made it up with me, haven’t you?”

“Quite—­quite.”

“But what a way to make it up!” says Rylton reproachfully.

He is smiling all through, however.

“What’s the matter with it?” asks Tita.

“Don’t you know?  Must I tell you?  Last night, Tita, you told me you would never want to kiss me again.”

“Well, kissing’s a bore,” says Tita, with a little grimace.  “I never want to kiss anyone really, except——­”

She hesitates.

“Except?” asks Rylton, his grasp tighter on her arms.

“Except Margaret.”

Rylton bursts out laughing; for the moment he believes her, afterwards—­

“What a baby you are!” says he; “and what a cruel baby!  Tita, I shan’t believe you have forgiven me unless you——­”

“I think it is you who are the baby,” says she, with a shrug.  “What on earth do you want to kiss me for?  Well, there,” holding up to him the coolest, freshest cheek in the world, “you can kiss me if you like.”

“Is that all?” says Rylton, somewhat piqued.

“Yes—­all,” with decision.  “I can’t bear people to kiss me on my mouth.”

“Perhaps you would prefer that people would not kiss you at all?”

“Well, yes, I should,” says she.  “But,” quickly, “of course, you are not quite like other people.  You may kiss my cheek if you like.”

“Thank you,” says Rylton.  “I appreciate the difference.”

He kisses her cheek discreetly, but would have liked to shake her as he does so.

CHAPTER XXI.

HOW EVERYONE GOES TO LADY WARBECK’S DANCE, AND HELPS TO MAKE IT A SUCCESS; AND HOW MANY CURIOUS THINGS ARE SAID AND DONE THERE.

Everyone has come now, and old Lady Warbeck, resplendent in pearls and brocade, has dropped into a chair that some charitable person has placed behind her.

It is indeed close upon midnight, and dancing it at its height.  Flowers are everywhere, and a band from town has been secured.  This latter is quite a flight on the part of Lady Warbeck, who, as a rule, trusts the music to the local geniuses.  Altogether everyone acknowledges it is very well done.  Very well done indeed, and a good deal more than one would expect from the Warbecks!