The drawing-room beyond is deserted.
"Now, is not this worth a moment's contemplation ?" says Rylton, pressing her gently into a deep lounging chair that seems to swallow up her little figure.

"It has its own charm, hasn't it ?" He has flung himself into another chair beside her, and is beginning to wonder if he might have a cigarette.

He might almost have believed himself content, but for that hateful monotonous voice at his ear.
"Oh, it _is_ pretty," says Tita, glancing round her.

"It is lovely.
It reminds me of Oakdean." "Oakdean ?" "My old home," says she softly--"where I lived with my father." "Ah, tell me something of your life," says Rylton kindly.
No idea of making himself charming to her is in his thoughts.

He has, indeed, but one idea, and that is to encourage her to talk, so that he himself may enjoy the bliss of silence.
"There is nothing," says she quickly.