she say?" demanded Madame, again--at the sword's point.

"I--I don't know--" said young Dunstable, helplessly, still shaking.
"I--I think--she'd laugh."

And he went off again, hysterically, trying in vain to stop the fit.
Madame bit her lip. Then came a torrent of Italian--evidently a torrent
of abuse; and then she lifted a gloved hand and struck the young man
violently on the cheek.

"Take that!--you insolent--you--you barbarian! You are my _fiance_,--my
promised husband--and you mock at me; you will encourage your stuck-up
mother to mock at me--I know you will! But I tell you--"

The speaker, however, had stopped abruptly, and instead of saying
anything more she fell back panting, her eyes on the young man. For
Herbert Dunstable had risen. At the blow, an amazing change had passed
over his weak countenance and weedy frame. He put his hand to his
forehead a moment, as though trying to collect his thoughts, and then he
turned--quietly--to look for his hat and stick.

"Where are you going, Herbert?" stammered Madame. "I--I was carried
away--I forgot myself!"

"I think not," said the young man, who was extremely pale. "This is not
the first time. I bid you good morning, Madame--and good-bye!"

He stood looking at the now frightened woman, with a strange, surprised
look, like one just emerging from a semi-conscious state; and in that
moment, as Doris seemed to perceive, the traditions of his birth and
breeding had returned upon him; something instinctive and inherited had
reappeared; and the gentlemanly, easy-going father, who yet, as Doris
remembered, when matters were serious "always got his way," was
there--strangely there--in the degenerate son.

"Where are you going?" repeated Madame, eyeing him. "You promised to
give me lunch."

"I regret--I have an engagement. Mr. Bentley--when the sitting is
over--will you kindly see--Miss Flink--into a taxi? I thank you very
much for allowing me to come and watch your work. I trust the picture
will be a success. Good-bye!"

He held out his hand to Bentley, and bowed to Doris. Madame made a rush
at him. But Bentley held her back. He seized her arms, indeed, quietly
but irresistibly, while the young man made his retreat. Then, with a
shriek, Madame fell back on her chair, pretending to faint, and Bentley,
in no hurry, went to her assistance, while Doris slipped out after young
Dunstable. She overtook him on the door-step.

"Mr. Dunstable, may I speak to you?"

He tur