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TERESA was late to lunch; she found the three men waiting in the drawing-room when she came in, fresh and full of colour, from her rapid walk. Two of them seemed not to mind being kept waiting—but then Gerald never minded anything she did, and the Major's manners were perfect; and Gerald was playing Bach, and the Major loved music.

Basil, however, was in a bad humour, as she perceived from his walking restlessly about the room, and smoking a cigarette with quick vicious tugs.

"It's twenty minutes past one, Teresa; where on earth have you been?" he demanded irritably.

"Business," said Teresa blandly. "I'm awfully sorry. Come on out, I won't even stop to take off my hat. I suppose lunch is ready?"

"I should suppose so. For a wonder, it was ready on time," growled Basil.

Teresa took the Major's arm and led him out, wishing that Basil had some of his parent's suavity. The Major said something cheerful about the bright spring morning and the roses in her cheeks, and put an extra shade of gallantry into his manner of seating her. She al-

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