er
swayed the dense mass of the disorganised procession. And now the last
rank between her and the Duke was broken, and at the revealed vision
of him she faltered midway in some raillery she was addressing to The
MacQuern. Her eyes were fixed, her lips were parted, her tread had
become stealthy. With a brusque gesture of dismissal to the men beside
her, she darted forward, and lightly overtook the Duke just as he was
turning towards the barges.

"May I?" she whispered, smiling round into his face.

His shoulder-knots just perceptibly rose.

"There isn't a policeman in sight, John. You're at my mercy. No, no;
I'm at yours. Tolerate me. You really do look quite wonderful. There, I
won't be so impertinent as to praise you. Only let me be with you. Will
you?"

The shoulder-knots repeated their answer.

"You needn't listen to me; needn't look at me--unless you care to use my
eyes as mirrors. Only let me be seen with you. That's what I want. Not
that your society isn't a boon in itself, John. Oh, I've been so bored
since I left you. The MacQuern is too, too dull, and so are his friends.
Oh, that meal with them in Balliol! As soon as I grew used to the
thought that they were going to die for me, I simply couldn't stand
them. Poor boys! it was as much as I could do not to tell them I wished
them dead already. Indeed, when they brought me down for the first
races, I did suggest that they might as well die now as later. Only they
looked very solemn and said it couldn't possibly be done till after the
final races. And oh, the tea with them! What have YOU been doing all the
afternoon? Oh John, after THEM, I could almost love you again. Why can't
one fall in love with a man's clothes? To think that all those splendid
things you have on are going to be spoilt--all for me. Nominally for
me, that is. It is very wonderful, John. I do appreciate it, really and
truly, though I know you think I don't. John, if it weren't mere spite
you feel for me--but it's no good talking about that. Come, let us be as
cheerful as we may be. Is this the Judas house-boat?"

"The Judas barge," said the Duke, irritated by a mistake which but
yesterday had rather charmed him.

As he followed his companion across the plank, there came dully from the
hills the first low growl of the pent storm. The sound struck for him a
strange contrast with the prattle he had perforce been listening to.

"Thunder," said Zuleika over her shoulder.

"Evidently," he a