nner to me is a sort of cold defiance, not to dare to revive
our old intimacy, nor to fancy that I can take up our acquaintanceship from
the past. I almost fancied she looked resentfully at the Greek girl for the
freedom to which she admitted me--not but there was in the other's coquetry
the very stamp of that levity other women are so ready to take offence at;
in fact, it constitutes amongst women exactly the same sort of outrage, the
same breach of honour and loyalty, as cheating at play does amongst men,
and the offenders are as much socially outlawed in one case as in the
other. I wonder, am I what is called falling in love with the Greek--that
is, I wonder, have the charms of her astonishing beauty and the grace of
her manner, and the thousand seductions of her voice, her gestures, and
her walk, above all, so captivated me that I do not want to go back on the
past, and may hope soon to repay Miss Kate Kearney by an indifference the
equal of her own? I don't think so. Indeed, I feel that even when Nina
was interesting me most, I was stealing secret glances towards Kate, and
cursing that fellow Walpole for the way he was engaging her attention.
Little the Greek suspected, when she asked if "I could not fix a quarrel on
him," with what a motive it was that my heart jumped at the suggestion! He
is so studiously ceremonious and distant with me; he seems to think I am
not one of those to be admitted to closer intimacy. I know that English
theory of "the unsafe man," by which people of unquestionable courage avoid
contact with all schooled to other ways and habits than their own. I hate
it. "I am unsafe," to his thinking. Well, if having no reason to care for
safety be sufficient, he is not far wrong. Dick Kearney, too, is not very
cordial. He scarcely seconded his father's invitation to me, and what he
did say was merely what courtesy obliged. So that in reality, though the
old lord was hearty and good-natured, I believe I am here now because
Mademoiselle Nina commanded me, rather than from any other reason. If
this be true, it is, to say the least, a sorry compliment to my sense
of delicacy. Her words were, "You shall stay," and it is upon this I am
staying.'

As though the air of the room grew more hard to breathe with this thought
before him, he arose and leaned half-way out of the window.

As he did so, his ear caught the sound of voices. It was Kate and Nina, who
were talking on the terrace above his head.

'I decl