d my fan in the dining-room or on
the stairs. Would you be so kind----"

He departed, not suspecting her of treachery; and she slipped forthwith
into a tiny conservatory behind the piano. It was her only refuge. She
could but hope that no one had seen her retire thither. Her need for
solitude just then was intense. She felt herself physically incapable of
facing the crowd in the music-room any longer. The first crashing chords
of the piano covered her retreat. She shut herself softly in, and sank
into the only chair the little place contained.

Her mind was a chaos of conflicting emotions. Anger, disappointment, and
an almost insane exultation fought together for the mastery. She longed
to be rational, to think the matter out quietly and impartially, and
decide how to treat it. But her most determined efforts were vain. The
music disturbed her. She felt as if the chords were hammering upon her
brain. Yet when it suddenly ceased, the unexpected silence was almost
harder to bear.

In the buzz of applause that ensued, the door behind her opened, and a
man entered.

She heard the click of the key in the lock, and turned sharply to
protest. But the words died on her lips, for there was that in his
brown, resolute face that silenced her. She became suddenly breathless
and quivering before him, as she had been that day on the down when he
had taken her into his arms.

He withdrew the key, and dropped it into her lap.

"Open if you will," he said, in the quiet voice, half tender, half
humorous, that she had come to know so well. "I am closely followed by
the infant with the scowl."

Priscilla sat silent in her chair. What could she say to him?

"Well?" he said, after a moment. "The end of the story--is it written
yet?"

She shook her head dumbly. Curiously, the throbbing anger had left her
heart at the mere sound of his voice.

He waited for about three seconds, then knelt quietly down beside her.

"Say," he drawled, "I kind of like Raffold Abbey, sweetheart. Wouldn't
it be nice to spend our honeymoon there? Do you think they would let
us?" He laid his hand upon both of hers. "Wouldn't it be good?" he said
softly. "I should think there would be room for two, eh, sweetheart?"

With an effort she sought to withstand him before he wholly dominated
her.

"And every one will call it a _mariage de convenance_!"

"Let them!" he answered, with suppressed indifference. "I reckon we
shall have the laugh. But it isn't so