"That's it," murmured Peckover. "Don't let her go too easily."

"I--I have something to say to you, Ethel," Sharnbrook declared with a sob in his voice.

"Oh, Jack," she exclaimed, with a pretty imitation of remorseful distress.

"Come round the garden with me, if it be for the last time," said Sharnbrook, his tones quivering with emotion.

"Too loud," whispered Peckover critically as the jilted swain pa.s.sed him.

"Oh, Jack," cried Ethel, the distress in her voice counterbalanced by the look of triumph she threw at her sister, "don't look so miserable.

I couldn't help it."

Sharnbrook gave vent to an explosive, window-rattling sigh as, with a wicked half-grin at his deliverer, he held open the door. The fickle Ethel, as she prepared to pa.s.s out, put her shapely hand to her treacherous lips and contrived to waft a kiss to her latest lover. And she did this without detracting in any appreciable degree from the contrite expression with which she successfully veiled her sense of triumph. Which shewed that, up to a point, she was a clever girl, or at least a credit to her maternal up-bringing.

CHAPTER XXI

It was, however, unfortunate that Miss Ethel had to leave her lover and her sister together. Peckover, baulked of a kiss in one direction, was by no means above trying for one in another; and, while Ethel was getting off with the old love, thought he might as well utilize the opportunity in getting on with the new. And Miss Dagmar, save in the matter of temper, was quite as interesting an object for his attentions as her sister. What was considerably more to the point, her manner suggested that she was even more susceptible to his fascinations than Ethel.

"Well," he observed with a leer, "while they are settling their differences we've got to amuse ourselves, eh?"

A wild desire to cut her sister out on the spot took possession of Miss Dagmar. Lord Quorn was for the time out of the question, and even if he were available, she was certain that she would give herself a far better time by marrying the richer man.

"How shall we do that, Mr. Gage?" she asked, with an archly provocative glance at him.

"Well," responded Peckover, by no means at a loss, "suppose we try how much we can get to like one another in ten minutes."

"I'm afraid----" she began, when suddenly she became aware that his arm was round her waist.

"Don't be afraid, Dagmar," he entreated.

"I am," she returned, releasing herself. "I'm afraid you are a deceiver."

"Oh, no," he protested, far from displeased, however, at the accusation.

"You have just been making love to Ethel."

"Nothing to speak of," he a.s.sured her lightly. "You see," he added, more amorously, "I did not know you cared for me."

"Oh, Mr. Gage!"

"I didn't," he maintained, wilfully misunderstanding her protest. "I dare say I ought to have, but I didn't."

"And now"--she laughed meaningly--"you think you have discovered my secret?"

The last word nearly brought a whistle to Peckover's lips, but he suppressed it in time. "Yes," he urged, "if I am right, if I have discovered it----" he paused to get a look at her face, and something more.

"Yes?" she murmured.

"Let's make the most of it," he suggested. "Give me a kiss."

"Oh, no, it wouldn't be proper," she objected, holding back.

"Quite proper," he a.s.sured her. "There's n.o.body looking."

"I don't quite see," said Dagmar thoughtfully, "how the fact that n.o.body is looking makes it proper."

"Well," argued Peckover, "if n.o.body is looking I don't see how it matters whether it is proper or not."

"But it does," she maintained, holding off.

"So long as it's agreeable to both parties," he urged; "we've no one to please but ourselves. Of course," he added airily, "if you've any rooted objection to kissing----"

"It is," said Dagmar hastily, "a question of what is right and what is wrong."

Peckover began to think this was dry work. "You think kissing wrong, then?" he suggested.

"Unjustifiable kissing," Dagmar declared.

"Unjustifiable?" Peckover repeated, with the suspicion of a yawn.

"Seems to me if both parties don't object the act is justified."

Dagmar glanced reflectively at the clock and calculated how many minutes more remained to bring him to the point. "Not necessarily,"

she rejoined with provocative archness. "There are certain people who may kiss each other, and the rest may not."

"That's no reason why they shouldn't try," argued Peckover, warming again under the influence of the fetching glance. "That's just where the fun comes in. You ought to kiss your mother and your grandmother or your sister, or your aunt, or your----"

"Or your fiancee," Dagmar supplied quietly yet promptly.

"Naturally," he agreed, "but that doesn't count."

"Doesn't it?" Dagmar enquired in a tone of surprise.

"You see, it's expected of you," he explained. "There's--much more of a catch, the poets tell us, in the unexpected."

Dagmar was beginning to grow desperate. Ethel's next (and nearly due) innings might hold the unexpected for her. "There are some things,"

she observed demurely, "which are made much more delightful by being looked forward to."

"That's right enough," he a.s.sented, catching an inviting gleam from her eyes. "But it's poor fun looking forward to a thing you aren't going to get. You know what I'm looking forward to?" He pointed the question with a leer.

"Oh, Mr. Gage," she protested artlessly, "how can I know?"

"By my teaching you," he answered promptly putting forth an endearing arm, which, however the lady deftly avoided.

"No, no," she declared, as bewitchingly as her limitations allowed.

"It is not right, as we are."