I am
determined.' She rang the bell, gave her order for the carriage, and
looked at him whimsically, as if rejoicing in her own triumph. 'I am
afraid I am becoming quite autocratic, Walter, so many people have to do
exactly as I tell them. If you will not come, will you write to me
occasionally, then? It would be delightful to get letters from you, I
think.'

Never was man so subtlely flattered, so tempted. Again he bit his lip,
and without answering, he took a handsome frame from the piano, and
glanced indifferently at the photograph he held.

'Is this the man?' he asked at hazard, and when Gladys nodded, he looked
at it again with keener interest. It was the same picture of George
Fordyce in his hunting-dress which Gladys had first seen in the
drawing-room at Bellairs Crescent.

'A grand gentleman,' he said, with a faint note of bitterness in his
tone. 'Well, I hope you will be happy.'

This stiff, conventional remark appeared to anger Gladys somewhat, and
for the first time in her life she cast a reproach at him.

'You needn't look so resigned, Walter. Just cast your memory back, and
think of some of the kind things you have said to me when we have met
since I have left Colquhoun Street. If you think I can forget, then you
are mistaken. They will always rankle in my mind, and it is only natural
that I should feel grateful, if nothing else, to those who are a little
kinder and more attentive to me. A woman does not like to be ignored.'

At that moment a servant appeared to say the carriage waited, and Walter
held out his hand to say good-bye. Hope was for ever quenched in his
heart, and something in his eyes went to the heart of Gladys, and for
the moment she could not speak. She turned silently, motioned him to
follow her from the room, and then stood in the hall, still silently,
till he put on his greatcoat. Woman-like, in the midst of her strange
agitation she did not fail to notice that every detail of his attire was
in keeping, and that pleased well her fastidious taste. When the servant
at last opened the door, the cool wind swept in and ruffled the girl's
hair upon her white brow.

'Good-bye, then. You will write?' she said quickly, and longing, she did
not know why, to order the servant to withdraw.

'If there is anything to write about, perhaps I will,' he answered,
gripped her hand like a vice, and dashed out. Then Miss Graham, quite
regardless of the watchful eyes upon her, went out to the outer h