ve only to command me."

She turned upon her pillow and faced him. The gradual reviving of her
physical strength helped her at least to simulate some of her ancient
pride that he had trampled so ruthlessly underfoot.

"What do you mean by that?" she questioned calmly.

He met her look fully and sternly.

"I mean, Mademoiselle Stephanie, precisely what I have said--no more, no
less!"

In spite of her utmost effort, she flinched a little. Yet she would not
be conquered by a look.

"I am to treat you as my servant, then, monsieur?" she questioned.

He dropped his eyes suddenly from hers.

"If it suits you to do so," he said.

"The situation is not of my choosing," she reminded him.

"Nor mine," he answered drily.

Her heart sank, but with an effort she maintained a fair show of
courage.

"Monsieur Dumaresq," she said, "I think that you mean to be kind. I
shall act upon that assumption. Since I am thrown upon your hospitality
under circumstances which neither of us would have chosen----"

"I did not say that, mademoiselle," he interposed. "I have no quarrel
with the gods that govern circumstance. My only regret is that, as my
guest, you should be inefficiently served. If you find yourself able to
treat me as a servant it will be my pleasure to serve you."

She did not understand his tone. It seemed to her that he was trying in
some fashion to warn her. Again the memory of his kiss swept over her;
again to the very heart of her she shrank.

"I think," she said slowly, "that I am more your prisoner than your
guest, Monsieur Dumaresq."

"It is not always quite wise to express our thoughts," he rejoined, with
deliberate cynicism. "I have ventured to point that out to you before."

Again he baffled her. She looked at him doubtfully. He was standing up
beside her on the point of departure. He returned her gaze with his
steely eyes almost as though he challenged her to penetrate to the
citadel they guarded.

With a sharp sigh she abandoned the contest. "I wish I understood you,"
she said.

He jerked his shoulders expressively.

"You knew me a week ago better than I knew myself," he remarked. "What
more would you have?"

She did not answer him. She only moved her head upon the pillow with a
gesture of weariness. She knew that she would search those pitiless eyes
in vain for the key to the puzzle, and she only longed to be left alone.
He could not, surely, refuse to grant her unspoken desire.

Yet for a