es me, at
an early hour, in quite another direction. Besides, when Miss Lister's
wish to see the links is known, so many people will discover golf to be
the one possible way of spending to-morrow morning, that I should be
but a unit in the crowd which will troop across the park to the north
gate. It will be quite impossible for you to miss your way."

Mrs. Parker Bangs was beginning to explain elaborately that never,
under any circumstances, could he be a unit, when her niece
peremptorily interposed.

"That will do, aunt. Don't be silly. We are all units, except when we
make a crowd; which is what we are doing on this staircase at this
present moment, so that Miss Champion has for some time been trying
ineffectually to pass us. Do you golf to-morrow, Miss Champion?"

Garth stood on one side, and Jane began to mount the stairs. He did not
look at her, but it seemed to Jane that his eyes were on the hem of her
gown as it trailed past him. She paused beside Miss Lister. She knew
exactly how effectual a foil she made to the American girl's white
loveliness. She turned and faced him. She wished him to look up and see
them standing there together. She wanted the artist eyes to take in the
cruel contrast. She wanted the artist soul of him to realise it. She
waited.

Garth's eyes were still on the hem of her gown, close to the left foot;
but he lifted them slowly to the lace at her bosom, where her hand
still lay. There they rested a moment, then dropped again, without
rising higher.

"Yes," said Mrs. Parker Bangs, "are you playing around with Mr. Dalmain
to-morrow forenoon, Miss Champion?"

Jane suddenly flushed crimson, and then was furious with herself for
blushing, and hated the circumstances which made her feel and act so
unlike her ordinary self. She hesitated during the long dreadful
moment. How dared Garth behave in that way? People would think there
was something unusual about her gown. She felt a wild impulse to stoop
and look at it herself to see whether his kiss had materialised and was
hanging like a star to the silken hem. Then she forced herself to
calmness and answered rather brusquely: "I am not golfing to-morrow;
but you could not do better than go to the links. Good-night, Mrs.
Parker Bangs. Sleep well, Miss Lister. Good-night, Dal."

Garth was on the step below them, handing Pauline's aunt a letter she
had dropped.

"Good-night, Miss Champion," he said, and for one instant his eyes met
hers, but h