st leave it to those who know better
than I the way to read a woman's heart to say how it came to pass that
towards five o'clock, when I heard the sound of wheels and going on to
my balcony saw a jaunting-car at the front entrance, and then
opening my door heard Martin's great voice in the hall, I flew
downstairs--literally flew--in my eagerness to welcome him.

There he was in his brown Harris tweeds and soft slouch hat with such an
atmosphere of health and sweep of winds about him as almost took away my
breath.

"Helloa!" he cried, and I am sure his eyes brightened at the sight of me
for they were like the sea when the sun shines on it.

"You're better, aren't you?" he said. "No need to ask that, though--the
colour in your face is wonderful."

In spite of my resolution, and the attempt I made to show him only a
kind of glad seriousness, I could not help it if I blushed. Also I could
not help it if, while going upstairs and telling him what had happened
to the house-party, I said he was doomed to the disappointment of having
nobody except myself for company, and then, woman-like, waited eagerly
for what he would say.

"So they're all gone except yourself, are they?" he said.

"I'm afraid they are," I answered.

"Well, if it had been the other way about, and you had gone and they had
stayed, by the stars of God, I _should_ have been disappointed. But
things being as they are, we'll muddle through, shan't we?"

Not all the vows in the world could prevent me from finding that answer
delightful, and when, on entering my boudoir, he said:

"Sorry to miss Madame though. I wanted a word with that lady before I
went down to the Antarctic," I could not resist the mischievous impulse
to show him Alma's letter.

While he read it his bright face darkened (for all the world like a
jeweller's window when the shutter comes down on it), and when he had
finished it he said once more:

"I hate that woman! She's like a snake. I'd like to put my foot on it."

And then--

"She may run away as much as she likes, but I _will_ yet, you go bail, I
will."

He was covered with dust and wanted to wash, so I rang for a maid, who
told me that Mr. and Mrs. Eastcliff's rooms had been prepared for Mr.
Conrad. This announcement (though I tried to seem unmoved) overwhelmed
me with confusion, seeing that the rooms in question almost communicated
with my own. But Martin only laughed and said:

"Stunning! We'll live in this wing of the h