"Miss Killigrew is rather an unusual young person," was his comment.

"Uncommon," replied Thomas, scrutinizing the point of his pen.

"For my part, I prefer 'em clinging." Lord Monckton rose.

"Rotter!" breathed Thomas. He rearranged his papers, crackling them
suggestively.

"Picnic this afternoon; going along?" asked Lord Monckton, pausing by
the portières.

"Really, I am not a guest here; I am only private secretary to Mrs.
Killigrew. If they treat me as a human being it is because they
believe that charity should not play in grooves."

"Ah! We are all open to a little charity."

"That's true enough. Good morning."

"Beggar!" murmured Lord Monckton as he let the portières fall behind
him.

"Blighter!" muttered Thomas, staring malevolently at the empty doorway.
He would be glad when Mr. and Mrs. Crawford and the artist came down.
Forbes was a chap you could get along with anywhere, under any
conditions.

Some time later Kitty came in. She crossed immediately to the desk.
As Thomas looked up, she smiled at him. It was the first smile of the
kind he had witnessed, coming in his direction, since before that
blunder on the tennis-courts.

"I found Lord Monckton's monocle, Mr. Webb. Will you be so kind as to
give it to him?"

"Yes, Miss Killigrew." Absently he raised the monocle and squinted
through it. "Why, it's plain glass!" he exclaimed.