y that of the Londoner--determinedly emergent from the
grime of the city--ever is, pottering about in the tiny kitchen, and
brooding over the blackly obstinate kettle.

This first visit was soon followed by others, and then by a foursome
dinner at the Carlton, Ralph Fenton being invited to complete the
party. Before long Peter was on a pleasant footing of intimacy with
the two girls at the flat, though beyond this he did not seek to
progress.

The explanation was simple enough. Primarily he was always aware of
the cord which shackled him to a restless, butterfly woman who played
at life out in India, and secondly, although he was undoubtedly
attracted by Nan, he was not the type of man to fall headlong in love.
He was too fastidious, too critical, altogether too much master of
himself. Few women caused him a single quickened heart-beat. But it
is to such men as this that when at last love grips them, binding them
slowly and secretly with its clinging tendrils, it comes as an
irresistible force to be reckoned with throughout the remainder of
their lives.

So it came about that as the weeks grew into months, Mallory
perceived--dimly and with a quaint resignation to the inevitable--that
Nan and Love were coming to him hand in hand.

His first thought had been to seek safety in flight; then that gently
humorous philosophy with which he habitually looked life in the face
asserted itself, and with a shrug and a muttered "Kismet," he remained.

Nan appealed to him as no other woman had ever done. The ineffaceable
quality of race about her pleased his fastidious taste; the French
blood in her called to his; nor could he escape the heritage of charm
bequeathed her by the fair and frail Angele de Varincourt. Above all,
he understood her. Her temperament--idealistic and highly-strung,
responsive as a violin to every shade of atmosphere--invoked his own,
with its sensitiveness and keen, perceptive faculty.

But this very comprehension of her temperament blinded him to the
possibility that there was any danger of her growing to care for him
other than as a friend. He appreciated the fact that she had just
received a buffeting from fate, that her confidence was shaken and her
pride hurt to breaking-point, and the thought never entered his head
that a woman so recently bruised by the hands of love--or more truly,
love's simulacrum--could be tempted to risk her heart again so soon.

Feeling very safe, therefore, in the