Muriel had heard of her from Captain Grange.  She had also once upon a time met Daisy’s husband.

“I liked him, rather,” she said.  “But I thought he must be very young.”

“So he is,” said Nick.  “A mere infant.  He’s in the Civil Service, and works like an ox.  Mrs. Musgrave is very delicate.  She and the baby were packed off up here in a hurry.  I believe she has a weak heart.  She may have to go home to recruit even now.  She doesn’t go out at all herself, but she hopes I will take you to see her.  Will you come?”

Muriel hesitated for a moment.  “Nick,” she said, “are you telling—­everybody—­of our—­engagement?”

“Of course,” said Nick, instantly.  “Why not?”

She could not tell him, only she was vaguely dismayed.

“I told Lady Bassett yesterday evening,” he went on.  “Didn’t she say anything to you?”

“Oh, yes.  She kissed me and said she was very pleased.”  Muriel’s cheeks burned at the recollection.

“How nice of her!” commented Nick.  He shot her a sidelong glance.  “Dear Lady Bassett always says and does the right thing at the right moment.  It’s her speciality.  That’s why we are all so fond of her.”

Muriel made no response, though keenly aware of the subtlety of this speech.  So Nick disliked her hostess also.  She wondered why.

“You see,” he proceeded presently, “it is as well to be quite open about it as we are going to be married so soon.  Of course every one realises that it is to be a strictly private affair.  You needn’t be afraid of any demonstration.”

It was not that that had induced her feeling of dismay, but she could not tell him so.

“And Mrs. Musgrave knows?” she questioned.

“I told her first,” said Nick.  “But you mustn’t mind her.  She won’t commit the fashionable blunder of congratulating you.”

Muriel laughed nervously.  She longed to say something careless and change the subject, but she was feeling stiff and unnatural, and words failed her.

Nick brought his horse up close to hers.

“There’s one thing I want to say to you, Muriel, before we go down,” he said.

“Oh, what?” She turned a scared face towards him.

“Nothing to alarm you,” said Nick, frowning at her quizzically.  “I wanted to say it some minutes ago only I was shy.  Look here, dear.”  He held out to her a twist of tissue-paper on the palm of his hand.  “It’s a ring I want you to wear for me.  There’s a message inside it.  Read it when you are alone.”

Muriel looked at the tiny packet without taking it.  She had turned very white.  “Oh, Nick,” she faltered at last, “are you—­are you—­quite sure?”

“Quite sure of what?” questioned Nick.  “Your mind?  Or my own?”

“Don’t!” she begged tremulously.  “I can’t laugh over this.”

“Laugh!” said Nick sharply.  And then swiftly his whole manner changed.  “Yes, it’s all right, dear,” he said, smiling at her.  “Take it, won’t you?  I am—­quite—­sure.”