really unconcerned, and she was feverish--and determined.

"You still make life worth living," he answered, gaily.

"It is not an occupation I would choose," she replied. "It is sure to
make one a host of enemies."

"So many of us make our careers by accident," he rejoined.

"Certainly I made mine not by design," she replied instantly; and there
was an undercurrent of meaning in it which he was not slow to notice;
but he disregarded her first attempt to justify, however vaguely, her
murderous treatment of him.

"But your career is not yet begun," he remarked.

Her eyes flashed--was it anger, or pique, or hurt, or merely the fire
of intellectual combat?

"I am married," she said, defiantly, in direct retort.

"That is not a career--it is casual exploration in a dark continent,"
he rejoined.

"Come and say that to my husband," she replied, boldly. Suddenly a
thought lighted her eyes. "Are you by any chance free to-morrow night
to dine with us--quite, quite en famille' Rudyard will be glad to see
you--and hear you," she added, teasingly.

He was amused. He felt how much he had really piqued her and provoked
her by showing her so plainly that she had lost every vestige of the
ancient power over him; and he saw no reason why he should not spend an
evening where she sparkled.

"I am free, and will come with pleasure," he replied.

"That is delightful," she rejoined, "and please bring a box of bons
mots with you. But you will come, then--?" She was going to add, "Ian,"
but she paused.

"Yes, I'll come--Jasmine," he answered, coolly, having read her
hesitation aright.

She flushed, was embarrassed and piqued, but with a smile and a nod she
left him.

In her carriage, however, her breath came quick and fast, her tiny hand
clenched, her face flushed, and there was a devastating fire in her
eyes.

"He shall not treat me so. He shall show some feeling. He shall--he
shall--he shall!" she gasped, angrily.

CHAPTER IX

THE APPIAN WAY

"Cape to Cairo be damned!"

The words were almost spat out. The man to whom they were addressed
slowly drew himself up from a half-recumbent position in his
desk-chair, from which he had been dreamily talking into the ceiling,
as it were, while his visitor leaned against a row of bookshelves and
beat the floor impatiently with his foot.

At the rude exclamation, Byng straightened himself, and looked fixedly
at his visitor. He had been dreaming out loud again the dream