ou are never funny when you are bwutal."

"On the contrary," he assured her gravely, "I am a Celt. I am always
funny when I am brutal. Your Englishman, now, is always brutal when he
is funny."

"Oh, don't try to be witty with every breath!" she cried crossly. "I
think it heartless of you, and that poor man was in danger of his life
at the very moment he said that awful thing!"

"Indeed he was," said Tyne earnestly. "I know that I had clutched my
knife with red slaughter hissing at my ear. Several men who were present
have confessed the same thing to me. The vice of self-control was all
that restrained us."

"At any rate," she said earnestly, seeing that it was hopeless to get at
his serious side through sympathy for Cecil, "at any rate, you like poor
dear Sophy, _don't_ you?"

"Yes, I burn discreetly 'with a hard, gem-like flame' for her."

"You wouldn't want to hurt her?"

"Not even for my own pleasure."

"Then _don't_ go about saying things about 'plum-puddings' and Grecian
feasts and all that when her husband is mentioned, _will_ you? Even if
you don't believe he's ill--be a good sort for Sophy's sake, and pretend
to."

"Pretence is always lovely," said Tyne dreamily. "Zeus pretended to be a
swan, and lo!--Artemis and Apollo!"

"I'm sure _you_ don't have to pretend to be a _goose_," said Olive, out
of patience, and she walked away from him, proudly carrying off the last
word.

But Tyne's native kindliness outweighed his love of drollery this time.
The memory of Sophy's beautiful, frozen profile as he had last seen it,
and which had reminded him of the drooping, white profile of the
Neapolitan Antinous, held him from further expressing his doubts of the
genuineness of Chesney's attack. As for the others, they behaved with
discreet and kindly sympathy, and carriages drew up often before the
house in Regent's Park to leave cards and inquiries.

Thus the bitterness of humiliation was lifted from Sophy's heart, and
thus, too, it came to pass that Amaldi could think of her again without
that overwhelming surge of helpless pity, and fierce, thwarted
indignation. He left cards on her and Chesney a few days later, and
meeting Bobby as he turned from the door, had the rather bitter pleasure
of holding him in his arms for a moment.

The child had not forgotten him. He gazed soberly into his eyes for a
moment, then broke into the delicious chuckle that meant delighted
affection with him, and pressing the firm li