sted. I am curious. I will admit that. No more."

The colour faded from Lady Caroom's cheeks. She shivered a little and
rose to her feet. Brooks' face had hardened.

"We are very much obliged to you for the money," he said. "As for
Lavilette, I had not thought it worth while to reply to him."

Lord Arranmore shrugged his shoulders.

"Nor should I in your place," he answered. "My position is a little
different, of course. I am positively looking forward to my next week's
Verity. You are leaving now, I see. Good-night!"

"I have kept Mr. Brooks away from his friends," she said, looking at
him. "Will you see me to my carriage?"

He offered her his arm with courtly grace. They passed down the crowded
staircase together.

"You are looking ill, Philip," she said, softly. "You are not taking
care of yourself."

"Care of myself," he laughed. "Why, for whom? Life is not exactly a
playground, is it?"

"You are not making the best of it!"

"The best! Do you want to mock me?"

"It is you," she whispered, "who stand before a looking-glass, and mock
yourself. Philip, be a man. Your life is one long repression. Break
through just once! Won't you?"

He sighed. "Would you have me a hypocrite, Catherine?"

She shook her head. Suddenly she looked up at him.

"Philip, will you promise me this? If ever your impulse should come--if
you should feel the desire to speak, to act once more as a man from
your heart--you will not stifle it. Promise me that." He looked at her
with a faint, tired smile. "Yes, I promise," he answered.

CHAPTER V

LADY SYBIL LENDS A HAND

Brooks glanced at the card which was brought in to him, at first
carelessly enough, afterwards with mingled surprise and pleasure.

"Here is some one," he said to Mary Scott, "whom I should like you to
meet. Show the young lady in," he directed.

Some instinct seemed to tell her the truth.

"Who is it?" she asked quickly. "I am very busy this morning."

"It is Lady Sybil Caroom," he answered. "Please don't go. I should
like you to meet her."

Mary looked longingly at the door of communication which led into the
further suite of offices, but it was too late to think of escape. Sybil
had already entered, bringing into the room a delicious odor of
violets, herself almost bewilderingly beautiful. She was dressed with
extreme simplicity, but with a delicate fastidiousness which Mary at any
rate was quick to appreciate. Her lips were slightly parted in a
nat