scious of
an overpowering nervousness at the prospect of spending the evening
alone with Peter. There was so much--so much that lay behind them that
they must either restrict their conversation to the merest
trivialities, avoiding all reference to the past, or find themselves
plunged into dangerous depths. Dinner had passed without incident.
Sustained by the presence of Penelope and Ralph, Nan had carried
through her part in it with a brilliance and reckless daring which
revealed nothing at all of the turmoil of confused emotions which
underlay her apparent gaiety.

She seemed to have become a new being this evening, an enchanting
creature of flame and fire. She said the most outrageous things at
dinner, talking a lot of clever nonsense but sheering quickly away if
any more serious strain of thought crept into the conversation. For an
instant she might plumb the depths, the next she would be winging
lightly over the surface again, while a spray of sparkling laughter
rose and fell around her. With butterfly touch she opened the cupboard
of memory, daring Peter the while with her eyes, skimming the thin ice
of bygone times with the adroitness of an expert skater.

She was wearing the frock which had called forth Lady Gertrude's ire,
and from its filmy folds her head and shoulders emerged like a flower
from its sheath, vividly arresting, her scarlet lips and "blue-violet"
eyes splashes of live colour against the warm golden ivory of her skin.

It was Nan at her most emotionally distracting, now sparkling with an
almost feverish vivacity, now drooping into sudden silence, while the
lines of her delicately angled face took on a touching, languorous
appeal.

But now, now that the need for playing a part was over, and she stood
waiting for Mallory's return, something tragic and desperate looked out
of her eyes. She paced the room restlessly. Outside a gale was
blowing. She could hear the wind roaring through the street. A sudden
gust blew down the chimney and the flames flickered and bent beneath
it, while in the distance sounded a low rumble of thunder--the odd,
unexpected thunder that comes sometimes in winter.

Presently the lift gates clanged apart. She heard Mallory's step as he
crossed the hall. Then the door of the room opened and shut.

She did not speak. For a moment she could not even look up. She was
conscious of nothing beyond the one great fact that she and Peter were
alone together--alone, yet