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them both and kissed her, quietly, but very decidedly. She was his now.

The good childish mood returned. They became gay and irresponsible again. The lines were all smoothed away from Pamela’s forehead, and Tony was a boy, years younger than he had ever been.

“I don’t believe it’s true,” he declared presently. “Oh, you poor little pale-faced baby-girl, what a fright you gave me! Never mind, we won’t talk about that. Let’s think about the future. When are we going to get married?”

“I suppose we can’t till we get back, can we? It does seem a long way ahead. Have you got any money?”

“Not a cent.”

“What are you doing?”

“Chauffeur. You never thought you’d marry a chauffeur, did you, Pamela? . . . And you haven’t a farthing either? But we must get something—funny, isn’t it? As long as we can get enough money to cable to your bank in London it will be all right. I expect we can get them to send some out here. But I wish I had something to pawn. I don’t suppose you have?”

“No—o.” Pamela hadn’t. “Oh, Tony, suppose I hadn’t met you!”

“Don’t talk about that, sweetheart. I can’t bear it.”

“And what will Mrs. Taylor say when I go back and tell her I’m not going to be governess to her sister’s children because I’m going to be married?”

“Mrs. Taylor may———”

“Oh, don’t, Tony, because she really was very good to me. I don’t suppose I should have been here without her. It was only when she asked about the Duchess’s pendant and she thought—that! Oh, Tony, that was worse than anything—I couldn’t have gone back to her. I don’t want to now.”

“Of course not—but I say, dearest, what’s this about