soothing purr--and when she wished, her caress could be
very soft and her purr very soothing. He had assumed that there were
claws, but she had hidden them from him; and what is ever hidden one
after a time forgets. And she had some justification for her resentment.
He admitted to himself that his attitude and manner had been such as
might cause her to believe that she was more to him than an opponent in
a game, that he was about to forgive her past, and to ask her to warrant
only for the future. And he had a notion that she was prepared to
warrant and to keep the warrant--even as she had done with the Duke of
Lotzen. Now it was ended. He knew it.

And she knew it, too. One sight of Mrs. Clephane with him and she
realized that he was lost to her: Mrs. Clephane had all her outward
grace and beauty, but not her past. Her woman's intuition had told her
in the red-room of the Chateau; she knew absolutely when she saw his
greeting to Mrs. Clephane in the corridor after her escape. She must go
back to her Count de M----, her Cabinet Minister, and her Russian Grand
Duke. The only two men she had ever cared for would have none of her,
despite her beauty and her fascination. Dalberg ever had scorned her;
Harleston had looked with favour, wavered, was about to yield, when
another--outwardly her _alter ego_, save only in the colour of her
hair--appeared and filched him from her. And whether Dalberg's scorn or
Harleston's defection was the more humiliating, she did not know.
Together they made a mocking and a desolation of her love and her life.
And as she came to hate with a fierce hatred the Princess whom Dalberg
loved, so with an even more bitter hatred she hated Mrs. Clephane who
had won Harleston from her. For while with Dalberg she never had the
slightest chance, and knew it perfectly, with Harleston there was the
bitterness of blasted hopes as well as of defeat.

And Harleston, sitting there beside her, the perfume of her hair and
garments heavy about him, read much that was in her thoughts; and some
remorse smote him--a little of remorse, that is--and he would have said
something in mitigation of her judgment. But a look at her--and the
excuse was put aside and the subject ended before it was even begun.
She was not one to accept excuses or to be proffered them, it were best
to let the matter rest. Meanwhile, Mrs. Clephane must be warned of the
danger confronting her.

He glanced again at her--and met her subtle smile.