ing weakness. The bare memory of it angered her now, causing her to
fire a volley of yellow corn at a lordly peacock, which sent him
scuttling down the steps on to the gravel in most plebeian haste. Yes,
she had speedily cast out her weakness, thank heaven! What was all the
pother about after all? This was not the first time she had played
merry games with the affairs and affections of men. Madame de Vallorbes
smiled to herself, recalling certain episodes, and shook her charming
shoulders gleefully, as she looked out into the sunny morning. And
then, was there not ample excuse? This man moved her more than
most--more than any. She swore he did. Her attitude towards him was
something new, something quite different, thereby justifying her
campaign. And therefore, all the bolder for her brief self-distrust and
hesitation, she had swept across the great room, light of foot, and
almost impertinently graceful of carriage.

"Here you are at last!" Dickie had exclaimed, with a sigh as of relief.
"I shan't want anything more, Powell. You can come back when the
dressing-bell rings." Then, as the valet closed the door behind him, he
continued rapidly:--"Not that I propose to victimise you till then,
Helen. You mustn't stay a bit longer than you like. I confess I'm
awfully fond of this room. I'm almost ashamed to think how much time I
waste in it. Doing what? Oh, well, just dreaming! You see it contains
samples of the doings of all my father's people, and I return to
primitive faiths here and to perform acts of ancestor worship."

"Ah! I like that!" Helen said. And she did. Picture this man, long of
arm, unnaturally low of stature, and astonishingly--yes, quite
astonishingly good-looking, moving about among these books and
pictures, these trophies of war and of sport, these oriental jars, tall
almost as himself, and all the other strange furnishings from out
distant years and distant lands! Picture him emerging from that well of
soft darkness yonder, for instance! Helen's eyes danced under their
arched and drooping lids, and she registered the fact that, though
still frightened, her fright had changed in character. It was grateful
to her palate. She relished it as the bouquet of a wine of finest
quality. Meanwhile her companion talked on.

"The ancestor worship? Oh yes! I dare say you might like it for a
change. Getting it as I do, as habitual diet, it is not remarkably
stimulating. The natural man prefers to find occasion for wo