“My dear child, in that case he should not have courted publicity as the guest of the evening last night.”

“Jack!  He wasn’t the guest of the evening!  How dare you say such things!”

Chris’s rare displeasure actually was aroused now.  Her slight figure stiffened, and she tapped her knee with her riding-switch.  She never touched her animal with this weapon, whatever his idiosyncrasies, and certainly the horses she rode generally behaved with docility.

Jack surveyed her with amused eyes as they turned up under the trees.  “All right,” he said imperturbably.  “He wasn’t.  My mistake, no doubt.  But where on earth were you hiding during the supper extras?  He was missing too.  Curious, wasn’t it?”

Chris came out of her temper with a winning gesture of appeal.  “Jack dear, don’t!  I’ve heard such a lot about it from Aunt Philippa already.  And why shouldn’t I talk to my pals?  You wouldn’t like it if I didn’t talk to you sometimes.”

“Is he that sort of pal?” asked Jack.

She nodded.  “Just that sort.  And Trevor knows all about it and understands.  I’ve just had a line from him to tell me so.”

“Have you, though?” said Jack.  “Then all I can say is Trevor is a brick—­a very special kind of brick—­and I hope you realize it.”

“He’s just the sweetest man in the world,” said Chris with enthusiasm.  “He is never horrid about things, and he never thinks what isn’t.”

“Lucky for you!” said Jack.

“Why?” She turned towards him sharply.

He began to smile.  “Because, my dear, you have rather an unfortunate knack of making things appear—­as they are not.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she protested.  “It’s very horrid of people to imagine things, and it certainly isn’t my fault.  Trevor understands that.  He always understands.”

“Let us hope he always will,” said Jack.

“He would trust me even if he didn’t,” said Chris.

“At the same time,” said Jack, “I shouldn’t try his faith too far if I were you.  If you ever overstepped it, I have a notion that it might be—­well, somewhat unpleasant for you.”

He spoke the words with a smile, but the silence with which they were received had in it something that was tragic.  Chris was gazing straight before her as they rode.  Her expression was curiously stony, as if, by some means, her customary animation had been suspended.  Jack wondered a little.  After a moment she spoke, without looking round.  “Jack!”

“Your humble servant!” said Jack.

“I’m not laughing,” she said.  “I want you to tell me something.  You know Trevor.  You knew him years before I did.  Have you ever seen him—­really angry?”

“Great Jove! yes,” said Jack.

“Many times?” There was a little quiver in her voice, but it did not sound exactly agitated.

“No, not many times.  He isn’t the sort of fellow to let himself go, you know,” said Jack.