again as I did just now. You can blot that out--antedate it. It
belonged to the past. But I am not going through life as I have gone
through this last year, longing for a sight of you, longing to hear you
speak, and denying myself just because you are married. Live with your
wife, Lawrence, and make her as happy as you can, but remember that you
owe me a great deal, too, and you must do your best to pay it. Don't look
at me as though I were talking nonsense."

He held her hand. She placed it in his unresistingly. All the lines in
his face seemed smoothed out. The fire of youth was in his eyes.

"Do you wonder that I am surprised?" he asked. "All this year you have
made no sign. All the time I have been schooling myself to forget you."

"Don't dare to tell me that you have succeeded!" she exclaimed.

"Not an iota!" he answered. "It was the most miserable failure of my
life."

She smiled upon him delightfully, and gently withdrew her hand.

"Lawrence," she said, "I am going to talk to you seriously for one
minute. You are too conscientious for a politician. Don't let the same
vice spoil our friendship! Certain things you owe to your wife. Mind,
I admit that, though from some points of view even that might be
disputed. But you also owe me certain things--and I mean to be paid.
I won't be avoided, mind. I want to be treated as a very close--and
dear--companion--and--kiss me once more, Lawrence, and then we'll begin,"
she wound up, with a little sob in her throat.

An hour later the whole party had _dejeuner_ together in the courtyard of
the little hotel. The Duchess was noticeably kind to Mrs. Mannering, and
she snubbed Sir Leslie. Clara looked on a little gravely. The situation
contained many elements of interest.

CHAPTER III

CLOUDS--AND A CALL TO ARMS

The first cloud appeared towards the end of the third day at Bonestre.
Blanche and Sir Leslie were left alone, and he hastened to improve the
opportunity.

"The Duchess and your husband," he remarked, "appear very easily to have
picked up again the threads of their old friendship."

"The Duchess," she answered, "is a very charming woman. I am sure that
you find her so, don't you?"

"We are very old friends," he answered, "but I was never admitted to
exactly the same privileges as your husband enjoys."

"The Duchess," she answered, calmly, "is a woman of taste!"

Sir Leslie muttered something under his breath. Blanche made a movement
as though to