ove you so it frightens me--My
God, if anything were to take you from me now, I do not think I could
bear it."

Sabine shivered as she bent down to look at a case of Cosways in a show
table.

"Nothing can take you from me, Henry--unless something goes wrong about
the divorce. My lawyer arrives in England to-day from America on purpose
to consult me and see what can be done to hasten matters.
My--husband--has not as yet started the proceedings it seems."

Lord Fordyce's face paled.

"Does that mean anything sinister, dearest?" he demanded, with a quiver
in his cultivated voice. "Sabine, you would tell me, would you not, if
there were anything to fear?"

"I do not myself know what it means--I may have some news to-morrow--let
us forget about it to-night. Oh! I want to be happy just for to-night,
Henry!" and she held out her hand again pleadingly.

"Indeed, you shall be, darling," and splendid and unselfish gentleman
that he was, he crushed down his anguish, and used all his clever brain
to divert and entertain her, and presently all the women went up to
dress for dinner and the ball, and Lord Fordyce found Michael in the
smoking-room. He had really a deep affection for him; he had known him
ever since he was an absolutely fearless, dare-devil little boy, the joy
and pride of his father, Henry's old friend, and in spite of the full
ten years' difference in their ages, they had ever been closest allies
until their break at Arranstoun, and then Michael's five years abroad
had made a gap, bridged over now since his return. Lord Fordyce felt
that Michael's intense vitality and radiating magnetism would be
refreshing in the depressed state into which his lady love's words had
thrown him, and he drew him over with him, and they sat down in two big
chairs apart from the rest of the festive groups--some playing bridge or
billiards. Michael was in no gentle temper, and Henry was the last
person he wished to talk to. He knew he ought not to have come, he knew
that he ought to tell Henry straight out and then go off before the
ball. He felt he was behaving like the most despicable coward; and yet,
if it were possible for Henry never to know that he, Michael, was
Sabine's husband, it would save his friend much pain. He was smarting
under Sabine's insolent dismissal of him, and burning with jealousy over
that witnessed caress, the violent passions of his race were surging up
and causing a devil of recklessness to show in his ver