cigars within a stone's throw of them. Having
finished with Leon, he attempted to rejoin them, but the lounge was
crowded, and at every few steps some old friend entangled him.

"There is nothing much to admire about me." In spite of herself a note
of desolation crept into her voice. Kenna looked at her in surprise.
This was a new side to the adventuress!

"_Au contraire_. Apart from the inestimable gifts of youth and beauty
the gods have bestowed, you possess a quality that would draw
admiration from the most unwilling--courage."

She bowed mockingly. Sarle was escaping from his many friends at last
and returning. Kenna rapped out what he had to say sharply, though his
voice was low.

"He is a good fellow, and I do not care to give him pain--unless you
force me to."

He searched her face keenly, but found no trace there of anything
except a courteous interest in his conversation. She did not mean him
to guess how much Vereker Sarle's happiness meant to her.

"Anything else?" she dared him.

"Well, of course I should like to know where the real Lady Diana is,"
he said carelessly. That gave her a bad moment. Mercifully, the
waiter created a diversion by knocking a coffee-cup over as he removed
the tray, and Sarle, returning, had some news for Kenna of a mutual
friend's success in some political campaign. This gave her a short
space in which to recover. But she was badly shaken, and wondered
desperately how she was going to get through the rest of the evening if
Kenna clung. They sat talking in a desultory fashion, each restlessly
watching the others. There was a clatter of conversation about them,
and in the adjoining drawing-room a piano and violins had begun to
play. The air was warm and heavy. For some reason April could not
fathom the French windows had been closed, and there was a swishing,
seething sound outside, as though the sea was rushing in tides through
the garden. She felt curiously unstrung. It was not only the nervous
effect of having these two men so intent upon her every word and
movement, but there was something extraordinarily disturbing in the
atmospheric conditions that made the palms of her hands ache and her
scalp prickle as from a thousand tiny thorns.

"I don't think I can bear this place much longer," she said suddenly,
even to herself unexpectedly. "Wouldn't it be cooler out where we were
sitting this afternoon?"

"I think so," said Sarle briskly. "Besides I want t