creature with regular features, violet-blue eyes and golden hair that seemed to defy all constraint. There was a tilt about her chin that showed determination, and that about her eyebrows which suggested something more than good judgment.
"I hope you weren't doing anything to-day, Tan," said Bowen as they came to a standstill at the top of Whitehall, waiting for the removal of a blue arm that barred their progress.
"I was lunching with the Bolsovers; but I'm not well enough, I'm afraid, to see them. It's measles, you know."
"Good heavens, Tan! what do you mean?"
"Well, I had to say something that would be regarded as a sufficient excuse for breaking a luncheon engagement of three weeks' standing. Quite a lot of people were invited to meet me."
"I'm awfully sorry," began Bowen apologetically.
"Oh, it's all right!" was the reply as the car jumped forward. "I shall be deluged with fruit and flowers now from all sorts of people, because the Bolsovers are sure to spread it round that I'm in extremis. To-morrow, however, I shall announce that it was a wrong diagnosis."
Lady Tanagra drew the car up to the curb outside Dent's. "I think" she said, indicating an old woman selling matches, "we'll give her the shilling for the taxi Peter, shall we?"
Peter beckoned the old woman and handed her a shilling with a smile.
