, with averted eyes.
"Were you not--a little cruel to her, Arranmore? Not that I believe
these horrid things, of course. But she did. She was honest."

Lord Arranmore shrugged his shoulders. He was looking out of the
window, out into the grey windy darkness, listening to the raindrops
splashing against the window-pane, wondering how long Brooks would be,
and if in his face too he should see the shadow, and it seemed to him
that Brooks lingered a very long time.

"Shall we finish our game of billiards, Catherine?" he asked, turning
towards her.

"Well--I think not," she answered. "I am a little tired, and it is
almost time the dressing bell rang. I think Sybil and I will go
up-stairs."

They passed away--he made no effort to detain them. He lit a cigarette,
and paced the room impatiently. At last he rang the bell.

"Where is Mr. Brooks?" he asked.

"Mr. Brooks has only just returned, my lord," the man answered. "He
went some distance with the young lady. He has gone direct to his
room."

Lord Arranmore nodded. He threw himself into his easy-chair, and his
head sank upon his hand. He looked steadfastly into the heart of the
red coals.

CHAPTER XIX

THE MARQUIS MEPHISTOPHELES

"I am so sorry," she said, softly, "our last evening is spoilt."

He shook his head with an effort at gaiety.

"Let us conspire," he said. "You and I at least will make a struggle."

"I am afraid," she said, "that it would be hopeless. Mother is an
absolute wreck, and I saw Lord Arranmore go into the library just now
with that terrible white look under his eyes. I saw it once before.
Ugh!"

"After all," he said, "it only means that we shall be honest.
Cheerfulness to-night could only be forced."

She laughed softly into his eyes.

"How correct!" she murmured. "You are improving fast."

He turned and looked at her, slim and graceful in her white muslin gown,
her fair hair brushed back from her forehead with a slight wave, but
drooping low over her ears, a delicate setting for her piquant face.
The dark brown eyes, narrowing a little towards the lids, met his with
frank kindliness, her mouth quivered a little as though with the desire
to break away into a laugh. The slight duskiness of her cheeks--she had
lived for three years in Italy and never worn a veil--pleased him better
than the insipidity of pink and white, and the absence of jewelry--she
wore neither bracelet nor rings gave her an added touch of distinction,
which r