s you wish, dear child, of course; but I do beg of you to be
prudent. He speaks of coming this afternoon. But would you not like
him to postpone his visit till I can be with you?"

"No, I don't think so," Muriel said, with absolute simplicity.

"Ah, well!" Lady Bassett spoke in the tone of one repudiating all
responsibility. She bent over the girl with a slightly wry smile, and
kissed her forehead. "Good-bye, dearest! I shouldn't encourage him to
stay long, if I were you. And I think you would be wise to call him
Captain Ratcliffe now that you are living a civilised life once more."

Muriel turned her face aside with a species of bored patience that
could scarcely be termed tolerance. She did not understand these
veiled warnings, and she cared too little for Lady Bassett and her
opinions to trouble herself about them. She had never liked her,
though she knew that her father had conscientiously tried to do so for
the sake of his friend, Sir Reginald.

As Lady Bassett went away she rubbed the place on her forehead which
her cold lips had touched. "If she only knew how I hate being kissed!"
she murmured to herself.

And then with an effort she rose and moved wearily across the room to
ring the bell. Since by some unaccountable impulse she had decided to
see Nick, it might be advisable, she reflected, to give her own orders
regarding his visit.

Having done so, she lay down again. But she did not sleep. Sleep was
an elusive spirit in those days. It sometimes seemed to her that she
was too worn out mentally and physically ever to rest naturally again.

Nearly an hour passed away while she lay almost unconsciously
listening. And then suddenly, with a sense of having experienced it
all long before, there came to her the sound of careless footsteps and
of a voice that hummed.

It went through her heart like a sword-thrust as she called to mind
that last night at Fort Wara when she had clung to her father for the
last time, and had heard him bid her good-bye--till they should meet
again.

With a choked sensation she rose, and stood steadying herself by the
back of the sofa. Could she go through this interview? Could she bear
it? Her heart was beating in heavy, sickening throbs. For an instant
she almost thought of escaping and sending word that she was not equal
to seeing any one, as Lady Bassett had already intimated. But even as
the impulse flashed through her brain, she realised that it was
too late. The shadow of