ense she had never known
before. He opened his arms, enclosed her in them, and kissed her by
force, while she struggled and protested furiously under his lips.

"Do you know," he asked, "I came here to-night just to kiss you. Only
that! I didn't hope for any more satisfaction, but some day I shall
have it. You're not what you think you are. And I'll make you very
happy. As a looker-on I've seen a lot of the game called marriage, and
I'd know _how_ to make you happy. Don't you believe it?"

Released, she retreated to the other side of the room.

"I don't want to believe it; you'd better go; you've behaved
disgracefully, and I don't feel in the least like forgiving you."

"Very well," said Rokeby, as Marie's footsteps sounded on the
parquetry of the corridor, "I'm going, but I shall come again, and
again! You won't get rid of me, I say, till you've married me. And
then you'll never be rid of me."

He swung round, laughing, and opened the door for Marie.

"Now, Mrs. Kerr, I'm to see you well on your way home."

She looked from one to the other, at Julia tall and flaming, and
Desmond diffusing a kind of electricity.

"I believe you two have been quarrelling; I ought not to have left you
alone."

"We have been quarrelling frightfully. Miss Winter is never going to
allow me here again."

"Glad you realise _that_," said Julia frostily.

He went out into the hall goodhumouredly to find his coat and hat, and
Marie's umbrella, while the two women kissed good-bye. The fold of
kimono that covered Julia's bosom heaved rapidly and her eyes were
very bright. She would not offer Rokeby her hand, but went to the
front door with her arm round Marie's waist.

They looked back to wave at her before they ran downstairs; she looked
very tall and brilliant as she stood in her doorway, her head held
high, and her mouth tightly set, and when the door had shut upon her,
Marie wondered aloud:

"What can have happened to annoy her so?"

"I've done it," said Rokeby, "but don't worry over it. These things
adjust themselves, and nothing matters at the moment, anyway, but
seeing you safely home."

"You can't come right out to Hampstead."

"I can; and I should certainly like to, if I may. Osborn would never
forgive me for leaving you at this time of night."

She thought how kind he was, and how restful. It was attractive to be
looked after again, deferred to and considered. Rokeby drove her the
whole way out in a taxicab and found