“I have heard so much about you,” said Mrs. Adams, pleasantly, “that I’ve been longing to meet you, Miss Quentin.  Adrienne calls you the ‘girl with the golden voice,’ and I’m hoping to have the pleasure of hearing you sing.”

Diana was getting used to having her voice referred to as something rather wonderful; it no longer embarrassed her, so she murmured an appropriate answer and the conversation then drifted naturally to Crailing and to the lucky chance which had brought Errington past Culver Point the day Diana was marooned there, and Diana explained that the Rector and his daughter had intended calling upon the occupants of Red Gables, but had been prevented by their sudden departure.

Adrienne laughed.

“Yes, I expect every one thought we were quite mad to run away like that so soon after our arrival!  It was a sudden idea of Mr. Errington’s.  He declared he was not satisfied about something in the staging of ‘The Grey Gown,’ and of course we must needs all rush up to town to see about it.  There wasn’t the least necessity, as it turned out, but when Max takes an idea into his head there’s no stopping him.”

“No,” added Mrs. Adams.  “And the sheer cruelty of bustling an elderly person like me from one end of England to the other just to suit his whims doesn’t seem to move him in the slightest.”

She was smiling broadly as she spoke, and, it was evident to Diana that to both these women Max Errington’s word was law—­a law they obeyed, however, with the utmost cheerfulness.

“But, of course, we are coming back again,” pursued Miss de Gervais.  “I think Crailing is a delightful little place, and I am going to regard Red Gables as a haven of refuge from the storms of professional life.  So I hope”—­smilingly—­“that the Rectory will call on Red Gables when next we are ‘in residence.’”

The time passed quickly, and when tea was disposed of Adrienne looked out from amongst her songs one or two which were known to Diana, and Mrs. Adams was given the opportunity of hearing the “golden voice.”

And then, just as Diana was preparing to leave, a maid threw open a door and announced:—­

“Mr. Errington.”

Diana felt her heart contract suddenly, and the sound of his voice, as he greeted Adrienne and Mrs. Adams, sent a thrill through every nerve in her body.

“You mustn’t go now.”  She was vaguely conscious that Adrienne was speaking to her.  “Max, here is Miss Quentin, whom you gallantly rescued from Culver Point.”

The actress was dimpling and smiling, a spice of mischief in her soft blue eyes.  She and Mrs. Adams had not omitted to chaff Errington about his involuntary knight-errantry, and the former had even laughingly declared it her firm belief that his journey to town the next day partook more of the nature of flight than anything else.  To all of which Errington had submitted composedly, declining to add anything further to his bare statement of the incident of Culver Point—­mention of which had been entailed by his unexpected absence from Red Gables that evening.