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to her seat she found herself the object of Mrs. Oakley’s attention.
    “What about an evening dress, Miss Brown? Have you one that will do?”
    There really must be something wrong about that wretched blue dress, because Mrs. Oakley simply didn’t consider it for a moment.
    “Oh, no—that was what I was afraid of. Martin telephoned while I was dressing, and he said I must see that you had something suitable.”
    Dorinda wouldn’t have been human if she had been pleased. She said in a restrained voice,
    “There is no need for me to go.”
    Mrs. Oakley’s face puckered up as if she were going to cry.
    “Oh dear—now you are offended—and Martin will say I have no tact And it isn’t that I haven’t really, but I do think being tactful is the most utterly exhausting thing, and my nerves won’t stand it. It will be so much simpler if you just won’t be offended. Because of course we couldn’t expect you to have clothes which you didn’t know you were going to want. And of course we shouldn’t expect you to be put to any expense, if you know what I mean.”
    Dorinda knew quite well. She wasn’t Dorinda Brown—she was an Appanage, an outward and visible sign of the Oakleys’ financial standing. They could no more go out to dinner with a shabby secretary than with shabby liveries or an elderly broken-down car. Her Scottish pride stiffened.
    And then she became aware that Mrs. Oakley was frightened. She was actually leaning forward, and the hand on the arm of her chair shook.
    “Miss Brown—please don’t be offended. You are quite a young girl—why should you mind if we give you a frock?”
    A real person had emerged from behind the frills. Not a very grown-up person—not at all accustomed to letting go of its props, and very shaky without them. Dorinda’s sweet temper reasserted itself. She said,
    “But of course, Mrs. Oakley—it’s very kind of you.”
    When Mrs. Oakley had gone to bed she rang up Justin Leigh.
    “Look here, I’m coming up to town tomorrow… Yes, I know you thought you’d got rid of me—I did too. But you haven’t. There’s going to be a reprieve—or perhaps you’ll feel as if it was a relapse.”
    Justin’s voice sounded cool and amused.
    “I don’t know that I should go as far as that. Is this leading up to the fact that you will lunch with me tomorrow if I press you very hard?”
    “Yes—at one o’clock. Because I’m being sent up to buy a dress to dine out in on Saturday, and if we lunch together I can show you what I’ve got, and if you thought it wouldn’t do, I could go back and change it.”
    “Nothing doing. I don’t know where you’re in the habit of lunching with Tip and Buzzer, but in my high-toned circles you can’t try things on between courses.”
    Dorinda gave a sort of wail.
    “Justin, sometimes I do think you are a beast!”
    “Far from it—I am a noble hero. I shall wangle my lunch-hour between twelve and one and meet you at—where are you going?”
    “Mrs. Oakley said any one of these…” She read from a list of names.
    “All right, we’ll take the big shop first. It will be easier for you to wait about for me there—let’s say the glove counter. A connoisseur’s eye can then direct your choice. What time do you get up?”
    Dorinda was thrilled.
    “Oh, Justin—will you really? I get up at half past ten. But that doesn’t matter—I’ve got things to do for Mrs. Oakley. I can put in the time all right—in fact I shall want it. I’m to be at Mr. Oakley’s office at a quarter past two, and he’ll drive me down. It will be more peaceful than it was today—at least I hope so.”
    “Why, what happened today?”
    She began to tell him about Marty and her brooch. If she made an amusing story of it, perhaps Justin would laugh. It appeared quite soon that he wouldn’t. He actually sounded angry as he exclaimed,
    “Your great-grandmother’s brooch!”
    “The only one I’ve got,” said Dorinda ruefully. “I shall have to buy a