Sugar, coffee and spices again.  Doggedly he recommenced the transcription, adding, deducting, comparing.  He heard a slight noise by the portiere, and raised his eyes.  Kitty stood there like a picture in a frame; pale, calm of eye.

He was on his feet quickly.  “Miss Killigrew, I apologize for my unwarranted rudeness.  I did not mean it as you thought I did”—­which would have made any other woman furious.

“I know it,” said Kitty to herself.  “You wanted an excuse to run away.  All my conjectures are true.  I believe I have you, Mr. Thomas, right in the hollow of my hand.”  To Thomas, however, she was a presentiment of cold and silent indignation.

He blundered on.  “You have all been so kind to me . . .  I am sorry.  I am also quite ready to stay or go, whichever you say.”

“We shall say no more about it,” she replied coldly; turned on her trim little heels and went out into the rose gardens, where she found fault with the head gardener; and on to the stables, where she rated the head groom for not exercising her favorite mount; and back to the villa, where she upset the cook by ordering a hearty breakfast which she could not eat; and all the time striving to smother her generous impulses and the queer little thrills which stirred in her heart.

Guests began to arrive a little before luncheon.  A handsome yacht joined Killigrew’s in the offing.  Laughter and music began to be heard about the villa.

Thomas took his documents and retired to his room, hoping they would forget all about him.  He had luncheon there.  About four o’clock he looked out of the window toward the beach.  They were in bathing; half a dozen young men and women.  The diving-raft bobbed up and down.  Only yesterday she had tried to teach him how to swim.  After all, he was only a bally haberdasher’s clerk; he would never be anything more than that.

More guests for dinner, which Thomas also had in his room, despite Killigrew’s protests.  The villa would be filled for a whole week, and a merry dance he would have to avoid the guests.  At nine, just as he was on the point of going to bed, the second man knocked for admittance.

“Miss Killigrew wishes you to come aboard the visiting yacht at ten, sir.”

“Offer Miss Killigrew my excuses.  I am very tired.”

“Miss Killigrew was decided, sir.  Her father’s orders.  He wishes you to meet his resident partner in Rio Janeiro.  Mr. Killigrew and Mr. Savage will be in the smoke-room forward, sir.”

“Very well.  Tell Miss Killigrew that I shall come aboard.”

“Thank you, sir.  The motor-boat will be at the jetty at nine-thirty, sir.”  The servants about the Killigrew home understood Thomas’ position.  They had known young honorables who had served as private secretaries.

A formal command.  There was no way of avoiding it.  Resignedly Thomas got into his evening clothes.  They might smile at his pumps, the hang of his coat, but there would be no question over the correctness of his collar and cravat.  He was very bitter against the world, and more especially against Thomas Webb, late of Hodman, Pelt and Company, “haberdashers to H. H. the Duke of” and so forth and so on.