I was rude to you the day you left----"

"Rude, were you? I had quite forgotten it. Now go!"

"No, thanks. I will sit down for a moment. Brigit, you are a very
foolish woman. Hush, I will tell you why. Firstly, because you are going
to marry the son of that musical mountebank; and secondly, because you
seem bound to make an enemy of me."

"Threats?"

She stood looking down at him with a smile as disagreeable, though not
as evil, as his own. "Don't you be melodramatic! And please go. If you
don't, I'll ring for Amelie."

"I don't mind."

And she knew that he did not. She, on the other hand did, for she had
always disliked and distrusted the Frenchwoman. "If you prefer one of
the men?"

"They won't hear you; men-servants never do. And, besides, I'm going in
a minute. Listen, Brigit; you have, during the past year, done
everything you could to hurt me. Do you think it's fair, all things
considered?"

"Fair or unfair, your--attentions annoy me."

"Well--your attitude annoys me, and unless you change it, I'll--get even
with you. Now, there's plain English for you." He rose. "That's all I
wanted to say. Rather pretty, your room."

"Very good," she sneered. "In the language of your favourite branch of
dramatic art, 'do your worst.'"

"And you intend to continue to torture me till--till I can't bear it?"
His face whitened, and there was real agony in his voice. After all, he
was suffering too, and suddenly, for the first time, she pitied him.

"I am sorry, Gerald," she said, bending towards him and laying her hand
on his shoulder. "I----"

"Hush!" reaching out his hand he switched off the light, for they had
both heard slow footsteps coming softly down the passage.

The room was dark now but for the fire which had died down, and luckily
they stood in the shadow. The soft footsteps, heavy, though they would
have been noiseless at any other hour than this most quiet one,
approached slowly and deliberately. Instinctively the girl clung to the
man, and he put his arms round her for the first time since she was a
little child. Even in their mutual fright she felt his heart give a wild
throb.

Then the door opened gently and on the threshold appeared--Tommy, sound
asleep, hugging to his unconscious breast the volume of the Encyclopaedia
Britannica, in which he had been reading about the Amati.

Slowly the boy crossed the room and disappeared into the sitting-room.

"Go," whispered Brigit, desperately; "he mustn