little picture," I said. "Who is that?"

"Oh, that is the Tilchester child, Muriel Harley," he said,
carelessly. "We snap-shotted her paddling in the burn in Scotland
a year or two ago. Come, it is dressing-time. I must send you
up-stairs." And then, as we left the room, "You look so comfortable
in that tea-gown! Don't bother to change," he said.

"Why deprive me of displaying to you the splendors I brought over on
purpose?" I said, gayly, as I ran up the broad steps.

XIV

I do not think there can be a more agreeable form of entertainment
than a _tete-a-tete_ dinner, provided your companion is sympathetic.
Anyway, to me this will always be one of the golden hours in my life
to look back upon.

Never had Antony been so attractive. Every sentence was well
expressed, and only when one came to think of them afterwards, did
one discover their subtle flattery.

By the time the servants had finally left the room I felt like a
purring cat whose fur has been all stroked the right way--at peace
with the world.

The dinner had been exquisite, but I was too excited to feel hungry.

"Comtesse," said Antony, looking at the clock, "there is one good hour
before the arrivals by the last train can possibly get here. Shall we
spend it in the library or the drawing-room?" He did not suggest his
own sitting-room.

"The library. It is more cosey."

As he held the door open for me, there was an expression in his face
which again caused me the ridiculous sensation I have spoken of so
often. I suddenly realized that life at some moments is worth living.
Perhaps grandmamma and the Marquis were right after all, and these
glimpses of paradise are the compensations.

"Will you play to me, Comtesse?" Antony said when we got to the
library and he opened the piano. "I shall be selfish and sit in a
comfortable chair and listen to you."

I am not a great musician, but grandmamma always said my playing gave
her pleasure. The music makes me feel--so, perhaps, that is why it
makes others feel, too.

I played on, it seemed to me, a long time. Then, after some tender
bits of Greig, running from one to another, I suddenly stopped. The
music had been talking too much to me. It said, over and over again:
"Ambrosine, you love this man. He is beginning to absorb the whole of
your life." And, again: "Life is short. This happiness will be over in
a few moments. Live while you may."

"Why do you stop, Comtesse?" asked Antony, in a moved