proportions. It entered his head to
excuse himself and retire to his own room, for a read, followed by a
leisurely bath, then he remembered his duties as host, and resigned
himself to stay at his post, and his two companions, noticing his sigh
and yawn, read his thoughts as a book, and waited in a tensity of
suspense for his decision. Peignton was in no doubt as to his own
feelings,--he longed with all his heart for the fellow to take himself
off, and leave him to talk to Cassandra alone; Cassandra believed that
she wished precisely the opposite, but to both came the same sharp pang
of disappointment, as Martin took out his cigarette case, and settled
himself in a lounge chair.

After a quarter of an hour's casual conversation Cassandra rose, and
entered the house. She felt too impatient to continue the three-sided
conversation, but, inside the drawing-room, she lingered on pretence of
rearranging the flowers in the tall green vases, while her ears strained
to hear what was happening without. If Dane cared enough to follow, it
would be so easy, so natural, to ask to be taken a walk of inspection
round the gardens! Those minutes of waiting had been sufficient to
prove the fallacy of her pretence, and she knew that she was hungering
for the time when they should be alone together, when she could look
into his eyes, and hear his voice speaking in the deep, full tones which
had made music in her ears during the stolen days of convalescence. She
had gone hungry for weeks, and for a moment it had seemed that she might
be fed. If only Martin had obeyed his first impulse, and taken himself
away! She stayed her hand, and stood motionless listening with strained
ears. From the balcony without came the sound of a masculine voice,
running on in a smooth, even flow. The feminine element being
withdrawn, Martin had embarked on a serious discussion which sounded as
if it might be prolonged to an interminable length. At that moment
Cassandra hated Martin Beverley.

Half an hour later, from an upper window which gave a view of the
verandah, Cassandra beheld the two men playing chess with every
appearance of absorption.

After dinner, bridge occupied the hours till bedtime, the men cutting in
and out. The next day they disappeared from ten until six, and after
being fed and refreshed, were keen for bridge once more. The Squire was
keen, that is to say, and the others acquiesced with more or less
readiness. The second an