Giles was very doubtful and reluctant. At first he refused to accept help in any form from his sister. But gradually he salvaged his pride by declaring that he would accept the money from her as a loan, to be paid back as quickly as he possibly could. He promised neither to visit a moneylender nor to blow his brains out. He was to return in three days' time to collect the money from his sister.

As soon as he had left, Henry ran up to her room and threw herself onto the bed. She lay staring hopelessly up at the canopy over her head. She had no idea how she was to raise the money to help Giles. She had not lied to him when she had said that Marius was generous. He showered gifts on her and made her a very generous money allowance. But Henry was a spendthrift. She could not have money without spending it. And her main clothing bills went directly to her husband, without touching her purse." She knew without troubling to look that her purse held only a small cluster of loose change, a few guineas at the most. It would not go a long way to paying Giles' debt.

She considered breaking her promise and confiding the problem to Marius. She had no doubt at all that he would immediately, and almost without question, write out a bank draft for the full amount and would not even demand that Giles repay it. But she could not bring herself to do so, for two reasons. She had made a promise to Giles, and according to her code of honor, a promise was totally binding, especially when it had been made to her brother, with whom she had always been very close. Second, she could not bring herself to admit to Marius that yet another member of her family was in a scrape. She craved his good

opinion, though why this was so she had not stopped to consider. She could not tell him.

She did think of asking him for the money under some other pretext. But how could she justify asking for three thousand pounds? A new bonnet? New kid gloves? There was no possible way she could do it.

Henry was still searching her mind for a solution an hour later when she heard the voices of the twins in the distance and the barking of Brutus. She sighed and rose to ring for Betty. It was time to dress for dinner. She did not want to be caught lying on her bed in the daytime, something she almost never did. Sometimes Marius wandered into her room from the adjoining dressing room to talk with her for a few minutes.

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Henry was still wrestling with her problem the following afternoon when she took her phaeton for a drive in the park. She had stayed at home all morning and had instructed the butler to tell any visitors that she was away from home. But all she had to show for her concentrated thinking was a headache and a cross mood. She decided that she needed some fresh air and light conversation with some of her acquaintances. She felt slightly cheered by the court of young men who were soon riding alongside her, lavishly complimenting her on her new blue bonnet and soliciting her hand for dances at Lady Sefton's ball the following evening. She gave a special smile to Oliver Cranshawe, who was on foot and just bidding farewell to a trio of ladies, who were also out strolling in the park.

"Good afternoon, your Grace," he called, flashing his white smile and bowing gracefully as he swept off his hat. "Your beauty rivals the day, as usual."

"And you speak with a flattering tongue, as usual, sir," she replied. "Come, take a turn in the phaeton with me and cheer me up."

He readily availed himself of the invitation. "And do you need cheering, Henry?" he asked, looking at her closely.

"I have the headache and am feeling blue-deviled," she replied airily.

"I have never known you downhearted," he said quietly, serious suddenly and giving her all his attention.

She smiled. "It is merely a passing mood, sir. Tell me, how you enjoyed the opera last evening. I saw you in Lord Cadogan's box."

"Yes, I saw you too, Henry," he replied, "and would have waited on you during one of the intermissions if Marius had left the box. But I know he don't like me. However, I believe you are trying to turn the subject. Will you tell me what has happened to trouble you, my dear? You know me to be your friend, do you not?"

"You are very kind, Oliver, but it is a private matter, And not serious, I assure you."

"Is it Marius?" he asked. "I do not wish to pry, heaven knows, but I cannot believe him to be a suitable husband for one as young and full of life as you, Henry."

"You are being ridiculous," she said. "Of course it is not Marius. He is the best of husbands. But it is something I cannot tell him. Oh, may I tell you about it, Oliver? I think it will help me just to talk it over with someone else. And perhaps you may be able to advise me."

"Be assured that I shall do all in my power," he said, all solicitous concern, and he leaned over and eased the ribbons from her hands so that he was now driving the phaeton. Henry sat back and rested her hands in her lap.

"It is Giles again," she began, and she told him the whole story, as it had happened the previous day. When she had finished, there was silence for a while. She realized that Cranshawe had guided the horses into a path that was not as heavily used as the main one, which was always crowded with horses and vehicles at this hour of the day. She smiled at him in gratitude.

"Is that all?" he asked. "That is the whole matter?" She nodded. "But, my dear Henry, there is no problem at all. I shall give you the money. It is the merest trifle, I assure you.

"Oh, I could not possibly!" she cried. "No, Oliver, I could not be so beholden to you or to any man."

"Nonsense, my dear," he assured her. "We shall call it a loan, though I shall have no real desire to recover the money. You may repay it when and as you wish. It need not weigh upon your mind at all."

Henry hesitated. "It is uncommon generous of you, she said doubtfully, "but it does not seem right, Oliver."

"Henry," he said, drawing the horses to a halt and taking one of her hands in his free one, "I am your husband's cousin and his heir. I am family. And I have a personal devotion to you that I shall not embarrass you by relating now. Please, allow me to help you and your brother. I should consider it a signal honor."

Henry looked steadily into his eyes. "I will accept, Oliver, she said, "but only on condition that the money be considered a loan. I will not accept a gift from you."

"I accept a gift from you in being the recipient of your trust," he said softly, raising the hand he still held to his lips. He lifted,-the reins and started the horses forward again as they both became aware of a lone rider cantering toward them.

Eversleigh!

"Damn!" Cranshawe swore under his breath. "I shall wait on you tomorrow morning at eleven with the money," he said hurriedly to Henry.

"Ah, my love, I was fearful that you might have had some mishap when you did not return to the main path immediately," Eversleigh said amiably as his horse drew abreast of the phaeton. "Good day, Oliver," he added, nodding briefly in the direction of his heir. "Horses all lame today?"

"Not at all, Marius," Oliver replied hastily. "I considered the day particularly suited to exercise on foot."

"Ah, then it is uncommon civil of you, dear boy, to abandon your exercise in order to keep her Grace company," Eversleigh said, viewing his cousin through his quizzing glass.

"It is always a pleasure to converse with Henry," Cranshawe replied irritably. When the duke made no move either to lower his quizzing glass or to resume his own ride, his heir was forced to turn to Henry. "Thank you for taking me up, cousin," he said. "I must leave you now. I am meeting some friends in under an hour."

"Good day, Oliver," she replied gravely, and watched him jump down and walk away in the direction of the northern gate of the park. She returned her gaze to her husband, who had lowered his quizzing glass.