e airs and affectations that
rendered him odious to her; he could not help thinking that by enough
attention, enough deference, and enough of being interesting he must in
the end conciliate her favour. When May joined the group, his manner
appealed from her friend to her, bidding Lady Richard notice how much
more responsive May was and how pleasant he was to those who were
pleasant to him. May would have despised him utterly at that instant but
for two things: she remembered his moments, and she perceived that all
the time he was suffering and mastering severe, perhaps poignant, pain.
But again, when she asked him how he was, he smirked and flourished, till
Lady Richard turned away in disgust and even the brothers looked a little
puzzled and distressed as they followed her to the buffet and ministered
to her wants.

"Sit down," said May, in a tone almost sharp. "No, sit at once, never
mind whether I'm sitting or not."

He obeyed her with an overdone gesture of protest, but his face showed
relief. She got a chair for herself and sat down by him.

"You spoke splendidly," she said, and hurried on, "No, no, don't thank
me, don't tell me that you especially wished to please me, or that my
approbation is your reward, or anything about beauty or bright eyes, or
anything in the very least like that. It's all odious and I wonder why
you--a man like you--should think it necessary to do it."

Quisante looked startled; he had been leaning back in apparent
exhaustion, but now he sat up straight and prepared to speak, a
conciliatory smile on his lips.

"No, don't sit up, lean back. Don't talk, don't smile, don't be agreeable."
She had begun to laugh at herself by now, but the laughter did not stop
her. "You were ill, you were very ill, you looked almost dead, and you
battled with it splendidly, and beat it splendidly, and went on and won.
And then you must--Oh, why do you?"

"Why do I do what?" he asked, quietly enough now, with a new look of
puzzle and bewilderment in his eyes, although his set smile had not
disappeared.

"Why, go on as if there'd been nothing much really the matter, as if
you'd had the vapours or the flutters, or something women have, or used
to have when they were even sillier than they are." She laughed again,
adding, "Really I was expecting Dick Benyon to propose to cut your
stay-laces."

The Benyons were coming back; if she had more to say, there was no time
for it; yet she managed a whisper as she sh