“There is nothing wrong with me, thank you!  Of course I did not come without good reason.”

“But, my dear, are you come to stay?” cried Meadows, looking helplessly at the taxi.  “And you never wrote to Lady Dunstable?”

For he could only imagine that Doris had reconsidered her refusal of the invitation which had originally included them both, and—­either tired of being left alone, or angry with him for not writing—­had devised this coup de main, this violent shake to the kaleidoscope.  But what an extraordinary step!  It could only cover them both with ridicule.  His cheeks were already burning.

Doris surveyed him very quietly.

“No—­I didn’t write to Lady Dunstable—­I wrote to you—­and sent her a message.  I suppose—­I shall have to stay the night.”

“But what on earth are we to say to her?” cried Meadows in desperation.  “They’re out walking now—­but she’ll be back directly.  There isn’t a corner in the house!  I’ve got a little bachelor room in the attics.  Really, Doris, if you were going to do this, you should have given both her and me notice!  There is a crowd of people here!”

Frown and voice were Jovian indeed.  Doris, however, showed no tremors.

“Lady Dunstable will find somewhere to put me up,” she said, half scornfully.  “Is there a telegram for me?”

“A telegram?  Why should there be a telegram?  What is the meaning of all this?  For heaven’s sake, explain!”

Doris, however, did not attempt to explain.  Her mood had been very soft on the journey.  But Arthur’s reception of her had suddenly stirred the root of bitterness again; and it was shooting fast and high.  Whatever she had done or left undone, he ought not to have been able to conceal that he was glad to see her—­he ought not to have been able to think of Lady Dunstable first!  She began to take a pleasure in mystifying him.

“I expected a telegram.  I daresay it will come soon.  You see I’ve asked someone else to come this afternoon—­and she’ll have to be put up too.”

“Asked someone else!—­to Lady Dunstable’s house!” Meadows stood bewildered.  “Really, Doris, have you taken leave of your senses?”

She stood with shining eyes, apparently enjoying his astonishment.  Then she suddenly bethought herself.

“I must go and pay the taxi.”  Turning round, she coolly surveyed the “fortified post.”  “It looks big enough to take me in.  Arthur!—­I think you may pay the man.  Just take out my bag, and tell the footman to put it in your room.  That will do for the present.  I shall sit down here and wait for Lady Dunstable.  I’m pretty tired.”

The thought of what the magnificent gentleman presiding over Lady Dunstable’s hall would say to the unexpected irruption of Mrs. Meadows, and Mrs. Meadows’s bag, upon the “fortified post” he controlled, was simply beyond expressing.  Meadows tried to face his wife with dignity.