"I think I should just say it as it comes, Peter," she remarked in a casual, matter-of-fact tone.
Bowen started and then laughed.
"What I want is a sponsor for an acquaintanceship between myself and a girl. I cannot tell you everything, Tan, she may decide to; but of course you know it's all right."
"Why, of course," broke in Lady Tanagra with an air of conviction which contained something of a reproach that he should have thought it necessary to mention such a thing.
"Well, you've got to do a bit of lying, too, I'm afraid."
"Oh! that will be all right. The natural consequence of a high temperature through measles." Lady Tanagra saw that Bowen was ill at ease, and sought by her lightness to simplify things for him.
"How long have I known her?" she proceeded.
"Oh! that you had better settle with her. All that is necessary is for you to have met her somewhere, or somehow, and to have introduced me to her."
"And who is to receive these explanations?" enquired Lady Tanagra.
"Her aunt, a gorgon."
"Does the girl know that you are—that I am to throw myself into the breach?"
"No," said Peter, "I didn't think to tell her. I said that I would arrange things. Her name's Patricia Brent. She's private secretary to Arthur Bonsor of 426 Eaton Square, and she lives at
