rbidden,
unconsummated. In God's Name, then, if Maryon Rooke could give her
happiness, what right had he to stand in the way?

By the time the taxi had brought him to the door of Kitty's house, his
decision was taken. He would clear out--see as little of Nan as
possible. It was the best thing he could do for her, and the
consideration of what it would cost him he relegated to a later period.

His steps lagged somewhat as he followed the manservant upstairs to
Kitty's own particular den, and the slight limp which the war had left
him seemed rather more marked than usual. Any great physical or
nervous strain, invariably produced this effect. But he mustered up a
smile as he entered the room and held out the recovered fan.

The "little milliner" was nowhere to be seen, and Kitty herself was
ensconced on the Chesterfield, enjoying an iced lemon-squash and a
cigarette, while Penelope and Barry were downstairs playing a desultory
game of billiards. The irregular click of the ivory balls came faintly
to Mallory's ears.

"Got my fan, Peter? Heaps of thanks. What will you have? A
whisky-and-soda? . . . Why--Peter--"

She broke on abruptly as she caught sight of his face. He was rather
pale and his eyes had a tired, beaten look in them.

"What's wrong, Peter?"

He smiled down at her as she lay tucked up amongst her cushions.

"Why should there be anything wrong?"

"Something is," replied Kitty decidedly. "Did I swish you away from
the flat against your will?"

"I should be a very ungrateful person if I failed to appreciate my
present privileges."

She shook her head disgustedly.

"You're a very annoying person!" she returned. "You invariably take
refuge in a compliment."

"Dear Madame Kitty"--Mallory leaned forward and looked down at her with
his steady grey-blue eyes--"dear Madame Kitty, I say to you _what I
mean_. I do not compliment my friends"--his voice deepened--"my dear,
trusted friends."

His foreign twist of phrase was unusually pronounced, as always in
moments of strong feeling.

"But that's just it!" she declared emphatically. "You're _not_
trusting me--you're keeping me outside the door."

"Believe me, there's nothing you'd wish to see--the other side."

"Which means that in any case it's no use knocking at a door that won't
be opened," said Kitty, apparently yielding the point. "So we'll
switch off that subject and get on to the next. We go down to Mallow
Court at the end of th