tell himself that those things which rendered him chiefly unfit for her,
the acquired vulgarities of his rougher life, were things which he
could put away; that a time would come when he would take his place
confidently in her world, and that the end would be success. And all the
while from out of the blue sky Fate was forging a thunderbolt to launch
against him!

CHAPTER XXXIV

"And now," she said, rising, "you really must take me to Lady Tresham!
They will think that I am lost."

"Are you still at your rooms?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Yes, only I'm having them spring-cleaned for a few days. I am staying
at Tresham House."

"May I come and see you there?"

The man's quiet pertinacity kindled a sort of indignation in her. The
sudden weakness in her defences was unbearable.

"I think not," she answered shortly. "You don't know Lady Tresham, and
they might not approve. Lady Tresham is rather old-fashioned."

"Oh, Lady Tresham is all right," he answered. "I suppose I shall see you
to-night if you are staying there. They have asked me to dinner!"

She was taken aback and showed it. Again he had the advantage. He did
not tell her that on his return he had found scores of invitations from
people he had never heard of before.

"You are by way of going into society, then," she answered insolently.

"I don't think I've made any particular efforts," he answered.

"Money," she murmured, "is an everlasting force!"

"The people of your world," he answered, with a flash of contempt, "are
the people who find it so."

She was silent then, and Trent was far from being discouraged by her
momentary irritability. He was crossing the lawn now by her side,
carrying himself well, with a new confidence in his air and bearing
which she did not fail to take note of. The sunlight, the music, and
the pleasant air of excitement were all in his veins. He was full of
the strong joy of living. And then, in the midst of it all, came a dull,
crashing blow. It was as though all his castles in the air had come
toppling about his ears, the blue sky had turned to stony grey and the
sweet waltz music had become a dirge. Always a keen watcher of men's
faces, he had glanced for a second time at a gaunt, sallow man who wore
a loose check suit and a grey Homburg hat. The eyes of the two men met.
Then the blood had turned to ice in Trent's veins and the ground had
heaved beneath his feet. It was the one terrible chance which Fate had
held