e amongst the
shadows?" Arranmore smiled faintly.

"The sun shines," he said, "only for those who have eyes to see it."

"Blindness is not incurable," she answered.

"Save when the light in the eyes is dead," he answered. "Come, shall we
play a game at fourhanded billiards?"

It resolved itself into a match between Lady Caroom and Lord Arranmore,
who were both players far above the average. Sybil and Brooks talked,
but for once her attention wandered. She seemed listening to the
click of the billiard-balls, and watching the man and the woman between
whom all conversation seemed dead. Brooks noticed her absorption, and
abandoned his own attempts to interest her.

"Your mother and Lord Arranmore," he remarked, "are very old friends."

"They have known one another all their lives," she murmured. "Lord
Arranmore has changed a good deal though since his younger days."

Brooks made no reply. The girl suddenly bent her head towards him.

"Are you a judge of character?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"Scarcely. I have not had enough experience. It is a fascinating
study."

"Very. Now I want to ask you something. What do you think of Lord
Arranmore?"

Her tone betokened unusual seriousness. His light answer died away on
his lips.

"It is very hard for me to answer that question," he said. "Lord
Arranmore has been most unnecessarily kind to me."

"His character?"

"I do not pretend to be able to understand it. I think that he is often
wilfully misleading. He does not wish to be understood. He delights in
paradoxy and moral gymnastics."

"He may blind your judgment. How do you personally feel towards him?"

"That," he answered, "might be misleading. He has shown me so much
kindness. Yet I think--I am sure--that I liked him from the first
moment I saw him."

She nodded.

"I like him too. I cannot help it. Yet one can be with him, can live
in the same house for weeks, even months, and remain an utter stranger
to him. He has self-repression which is marvellous--never at
fault--never a joint loose. One wonders so much what lies beyond. One
would like to know."

"Is it wise?" he asked. "After all, is it our concern?

"Not ours. But if you were a woman would you be content to take him on
trust?"

"It would depend upon my own feelings," he answered, hesitatingly.

"Whether you cared for him?"

"Yes!"

She beat the floor with her foot.

"You are wrong," she said, "I am sure that you are wrong. To care