It was not until after tea, when three frocks had been chosen, that Elizabeth dared to ask about the silk lingerie. She had become more at ease with Lawrence, and he had liked all the prettiest frocks.

Elizabeth paused tentatively before a shop-window, and blushed.

“Father—I think I ought to have—if you don’t mind— just for evening wear—some of—of those things.”

Lawrence turned to look at the shop, and then he stared at Elizabeth. She kept her eyes downcast, and thought how awful it was of her to have spoken.

“Well, well!” Lawrence broke into a laugh. “I can’t very well go in there with you, can I?”

Elizabeth’s lashes fluttered upwards.

“I could go alone—if you’d wait! I’ve—brought my cheque-book.”

The afternoon had been a success; Lawrence felt indulgent.

“Well, in with you,” he said. “I wonder what your aunt will say?” Then he thought this was being disloyal, and hastily added, “Of course she won’t object, as they’re only to wear with the dance-frocks.”

“Oh, yes, only with them!” Elizabeth agreed.

She was a long time in the shop, but Lawrence, who had been buying cigars, did not realise this. He patted her arm and hoped that she had got what she wanted.

Elizabeth thought of the piles of silken garments set aside to be sent to her, and stepped out briskly.

“Yes, rather!” she said.

Lawrence said that she was a little puss, and put her into another taxi. On the way home he confided to her that he had long considered buying a car.

Chapter Three

Elizabeth looked so pretty in her new clothes that Miss Arden said nothing about the silken lingerie. She told herself that it was only for the evening, and gradually she was able to believe it.

When Lawrence bought a four-seater coupe she said that she couldn't get over it. Lawrence told her that she wasn’t expected to get over it, only into it, and because he was palpably delighted with the joke, Miss Arden and Elizabeth both laughed at it.

Lawrence learned to drive the car, but there was also a chauffeur, which was just as well, as if anything went wrong Lawrence didn’t know what to do. He lived in morbid dread of punctures, and whenever the car back-fired, which was often, he got out and felt all the tires. However he was very proud of being able to drive a car, and he looked very important when he sat behind the wheel.

“There’s a great deal in driving,” he told Mr. Hengist, confidentially. “It’s by no means so easy as it looks.” He saw a large lorry approaching, and became agonised. Once safely past:—“I suppose any fool can drive a car, but it needs practice and a cool head to be able to drive well.”

“Yes, I’ve no doubt you’ll improve in time,” said Mr. Hengist cruelly.