a woman's head and shoulders
appeared from behind the curtain. Juliet gave a little gasp.

"Mr. Aynesworth," she exclaimed, "did you ever see such a beautiful
woman? Do tell me who she is!"

"A very great lady in London society," Aynesworth answered. "That is
Emily, Marchioness of Westchester."

Juliet's eyes never moved from her until the beautiful neck and
shoulders were turned away. She leaned over towards her companion, and
she did not again, for some few minutes, face the house.

"She is the loveliest woman I ever saw in my life," Juliet said with
a little sigh. "Is she a great friend of Sir Wingrave Seton, Mr.
Aynesworth?"

"He has no friends," Aynesworth answered. "I believe that they are very
well acquainted."

"Poor Sir Wingrave!" Juliet murmured softly.

Aynesworth looked at her in some surprise.

"It is odd that you should have recognized him from up here," he
remarked thoughtfully. "He has changed so much during the last few
years."

Juliet smiled, but she did not explain. She felt that she was obeying
Wingrave's wishes.

"I should have recognized him anywhere," she answered simply. "I wonder
what they are talking about. She seems so interested, and he looks so
bored."

Aynesworth looked at his watch. It was barely ten o'clock.

"I am very glad to see him here this evening," he remarked.

"I should like so much," she said, still gazing at them earnestly, "to
know that they are talking about."

. . . . . . . . . . .

"So you will not tell me," the Marchioness murmured, ceasing for a
moment the graceful movements of her fan, and looking at him steadily.
"You refuse me this--almost the first thing I have ever asked you?"

"It is scarcely," Wingrave objected, "a reasonable question."

"Between you and me," she murmured, "such punctiliousness is scarcely
necessary--is it?"

He withstood the attack of those wonderful eyes lifted swiftly to his,
and answered her gravely.

"You are Lady Ruth's friend," he remarked. "Probably, therefore, she
will tell you all about it."

The Marchioness laughed softly, yet with something less than mirth.

"Friends," she exclaimed, "Lady Ruth and I? There was never a woman in
this world who was less my friend--especially now!"

He asked for no explanation of her last words, but in a moment or two
she vouchsafed it. She leaned a little forward, her eyes flashed softly
through the semi-darkness.

"Lady Ruth is afraid," she said quietly, "that I might