, which was rarely out of his lips, he did not intrude on her;
but as she was passing through the hall, on her way for a walk, she met
him coming out of the smoking-room. His was a well-groomed figure, and
save for the weak and sensuous lips, and the prominent eyes with the
curious expression, he was, physically, by no means a bad specimen of a
young man; but Celia was acutely conscious of the feeling of repulsion,
and she quickened her pace. With his hands still in his pockets, he
almost intercepted her.

"Good morning, Miss Grant!" he said, with the free-and-easy manner of a
man addressing a dependent. "First-rate morning, isn't it? Going for a
walk?"

"Yes, my lord," replied Celia, giving him his title with a little
emphasis, and speaking coldly, with her eyes fixed on the ground, her
hands touching Roddy, who had not offered to go to Lord Heyton, but
gazed up at Celia as if he were saying, "I don't like this man. Let us
go for our walk and get away from him."

"Not a bad idea, a walk; tip-top morning," said Heyton. "I'll come with
you, if you'll allow me."

Celia bit her lip, and flushed angrily; for the request for permission
was so evidently a mere matter of form.

"I would rather go alone, my lord," she said. "I am going to call on a
friend."

"Oh, but I can go as far as the door with you, surely," he said, with
the smile of a man too self-satisfied to accept a woman's rebuff
seriously. "Two's company and one's none."

"But there are already two," said Celia, forcing a smile and glancing at
Roddy. "It is very kind of your lordship, but I would rather be alone."
She moved on quickly, her heart beating rather fast with resentment, her
face crimson. Heyton followed her to the door, and stood looking after
her, an evil smile on his face.

"Pretty high and mighty for a typewriting girl," he muttered. "By jove!
she's pretty. I like that swing of hers. All right, my girl; I'm not
taken in by that mock shyness. You wait awhile. Yes; she's deuced
pretty. I wonder how the old man picked her up!"

Celia had gone some distance before she recovered her equanimity.
Certainly, this son of the Marquess was a hateful creature, and she
could not help wondering how even so shallow and frivolous a woman as
his wife could have married him. She had reached the bend of the road,
when she stopped short and stared with amazement at a group which
presented itself a little farther down.

On the bank adjoining the pathway was s