Jaffery

lled, I think, a picture hat, broad-brimmed with a sweeping ostrich feather, tickled my especial fancy, but was afterwards reviled by my wife as being entirely unsuited to fresh widowhood

. . . . Of course Barbara received her courteously. She, too, was surprised at h

sed to see you,

d her calm, brown eyes on Jaffery. There was just a little quarter-second of silence, during which we all wondered in what kind of outlandish tongue she would add

, your much honoured host, and this is my wife, and . . . Miss Jornicroft . . . a

bows, "I am the daughter of Albanian patriots. They were murdered.

ive area of Adrian's arm. Jaffery, with knitted brow, leaned against one of the posts

k perfect Eng

pigs. He was a dandy," she said in unemotional tones-and I noticed a little shiver of repulsion ripple through Barbara and Doria

ectly unconcerned mistress of the situation. Naturally we made mute appeal to Jaff

a rumble like thunder, "why you have left my

said serenely. "She's a freak.

een quarrelling

regarding him with her calm br

politely, Liosha-what

uess it isn't right to talk

for she had been standing and her astonishing entrance had flabbergasted ceremonious observanc

Mrs. Prescott. We are all Mr. Chayne

at the row was

onistic assembly-even Doria's curiosity lent her a semblance of a sense of humour-she relaxed h

emia is a damn fool. She took me this morning to

"there are about a hundred mi

eet. Euphemia took me there to shew me the shops. She made me mad. For when I wanted to go in and buy things she dragged me away. If she didn't want

a, somewhat

to look at shops witho

saw a glass cage in a shop window full of little chickens, and I said to Euphemia: 'I want that. I must have those chickens.' I said, 'Give me money to go in and buy them.' Do you know, Jaff

s one thing the management of the Savoy Hotel love, it's chicken inc

ayne, he will give me the money.' He asked where Mr. Jaff Chayne was. I said he was staying with Mr. Freeth, at Northlands, Harston, Berkshire. I am not a fool like Euphemia. I remember. I left Euphemia st

roar, "it's no use thinking of buying chickens this afternoon. It's Saturday and the shops are shut. You go home before that automobile has ticked o

straight in

ewhere else. I've got

n I take you?" cri

people go to in England. Doesn't

k to Euphemia till M

for you," said Adrian. "A lecture on Tolstoi to-nig

Euphemia, I might hu

an. "Look here, old chap. It's awfully rough luck, but I must take her back to th

so far as tha

n asked politely, with the ai

ry turned on him savagely. "Can

ith a certain kind dignity. "But these are your friends.

d God!" cr

bara, who had set out to

y thing,

in our protestations as the argument continued. Nothing would give us such unimagi

s for hospitality in Albania he is invited to walk r

n't ask," gro

smiling. "Mrs. Prescott, this bear of a guardian or trustee or what

hat," sai

herself up majestically beside Jaffery's great bulk. "He's goi

d bowed. "The

e this way-I will

e French window of the drawing-room. Before disa

t about cloth

a taxi, there's a maid, there's the Savoy hotel,

Empire with far less fuss than most people devote to the running of a small sweet-stu

rry, old man,"

refreshing thing I've seen for many a day. The way she clears the

Mr. Chayne finding her a

would be sympathetic." He dropped into a chair by her side. "You can't t

through with it-every husband a

either father nor husband are responsib

ou must find her

knew of Adrian's great good fortune, I wrote to H

who smiled but faintly at the jocu

sand a year. He was pretty well

added, after a moment or two of reflection, "if I were you,

good way?" Jaff

She seems to have falle

soul that ever li

Albanian patriot who used to kill pigs in Chicago-why, what can your

. How did

an that could have thought of saddling her with our friend. Well-that's impossible. She would b

the death of me t

self, for the poor woman would die of boredom. Th

eyed adoration of a heathen Goth re

murmured. "You

Adrian, who had not displayed enthusia

lf to Adrian, and she belonged to the type for whom vows are irrefragable; but poor old Jaffery had made no vows, save of loyalty to his friends; which vows, provided they are kept, are perfectly consistent with a man's falling hopelessly, despairingly in love with his friend's affianced bride. And, as far as Barbara and myself have been able to make out, it

different condition of affairs. Did you ever hear of an ogre sighing himself to a shadow for love of a gap-toothed ogress? No. He goes out into the fairy world, and, sending his ogress-wife to Jericho, becomes desperately enamoured of the elfin princess. There he is, great, ruddy, hairy wretch: there she is, a wraith of a creature made up of thistledown and fountain-bubbles and stars. He stares at her, stretches out his huge paw to grab a fairy, feathery tress of her dark hair. Defensive, she puts up her little hand. Its touch is an electric shock to the marauder. He blinks, and rubs his arm. He has a mighty respect for her. He could take her up in his fingers and eat her like a quail-the one satisfactory method of eating a quail is unfortunately practised only by ogres-but he does not want to eat

to imagine. But I hold to my theory; all the more because when Adrian and I returned from our stroll round the garden, we found Jaffery standing over her, legs apart, like a Colossus of

yness), after dealing with maid and taxi, had taken her over the house, exhibited Susan at tea in the nursery, and as much of Doria's trousseau as was visible in the sewing-room. The approaching ma

of everything, and I think yo

et beneath the bri

y woman abominably,

pity on him, she laughed in his fa

t the lady. "Rather

be civil to her. Imagine she's

that sent the house cat, a delicate mendicant for food, scuttling across the lawn. Th

said Adrian, "was he allow

do in Albania," replied Liosha. "He has the bessas

like brave me

a damn fool-especially in Albania. I gu

s about your mountains,"

ht let us hear his story. That is to say

expected to talk about himself; for if

ed Jaffery, "and you chip in

be best," re

e shade of the old wistaria arbour, surrounded by such dainty products of civilisation as Adrian (in speckless white