m, but
he could not be sure. He thought--but he was thinking too much again;
at least, Lady Pippinworth seemed to come to that conclusion, for with
a galling little laugh she moved on. He saw with amazing clearness
that he had thought sufficiently for one day.

On coming into the garden with her, and for some time afterwards, he
had been studying her so coolly, watching symptoms rather than words,
that there is nothing to compare the man to but a doctor who, while he
is chatting, has his finger on your pulse. But he was not so calm now.
Whether or not he had stirred the woman, he was rapidly firing
himself.

When next he saw her face by the light of a window, she at the same
instant turned her eyes on him; it was as if each wanted to know
correctly how the other had been looking in the darkness, and the
effect was a challenge.

Like one retreating a step, she lowered her eyes. "I am tired," she
said. "I shall go in."

"Let us stroll round once more."

"No, I am going in."

"If you are afraid----" he said, with a slight smile.

She took his arm again. "Though it is too bad of me to keep you out,"
she said, as they went on, "for you are shivering. Is it the night air
that makes you shiver?" she asked mockingly.

But she shivered a little herself, as if with a presentiment that she
might be less defiant if he were less thoughtful. For a month or more
she had burned to teach him a lesson, but there was a time before that
when, had she been sure he was in earnest, she would have preferred to
be the pupil.

Two ladies came out of an arbour where they had been drinking coffee,
and sauntered towards the hotel. It was a tiny building, half
concealed in hops and reached by three steps, and Tommy and his
companion took possession. He groped in the darkness for a chair for
her, and invited her tenderly to sit down. She said she preferred to
stand. She was by the open window, her fingers drumming on the sill.
Though he could not see her face, he knew exactly how she was looking.

"Sit down," he said, rather masterfully.

"I prefer to stand," she repeated languidly.

He had a passionate desire to take her by the shoulders, but put his
hand on hers instead, and she permitted it, like one disdainful but
helpless. She said something unimportant about the stillness.

"Is it so still?" he said in a low voice. "I seem to hear a great
noise. I think it must be the beating of my heart."

"I fancy that is what it is," she d