ne.

"Well, now, that is just what I said at the time," said Ralph, sleepily,
with a yawn that would have accommodated a Jonah, "only I was told I did
not understand. They always say I don't understand if they're set on
anything. I thought you wanted a little peace and quietness. I said so;
but Aunt Mary settled we must have some one. I say, Charles," with a
chuckle of deep masculine cunning, "you just look out. There's some
mystery up about Ruth. I believe Aunt Mary got Evelyn to ask her here
with an eye to business."

"I would not do Aunt Mary the injustice to doubt _that_ for a moment,"
replied Charles, rather bitterly; and they relapsed into silence and
smoke.

Presently Ralph, who had been out all day, yawned himself into the
house, and left Charles to pace up and down by himself.

If Lady Mary, who was at that moment composing herself to slumber in the
best spare bedroom, had heard the gist of Ralph's remarks to his
brother, I think she would have risen up and confronted him then and
there on the stairs. As it was, she meditated on her couch with much
satisfaction, until the sleep of the just came upon her, little recking
that the clumsy hand of brutal man had even then torn the veil from her
carefully concealed and deeply laid feminine plans.

Charles, meanwhile, remained on the lawn till late into the night. After
two months of London smuts and London smoke and London nights, the calm
scented darkness had a peculiar charm for him. The few lights in the
windows were going out one by one, and thousands and thousands were
coming out in the quiet sky. Through the still air came the sound of a
corn-crake perpetually winding up its watch at regular intervals in a
field hard by. A little desultory breeze hovered near, and just roused
the sleepy trees to whisper a good-night. And Charles paced and paced,
and thought of many things.

Only last night! His mind went back to the picture-gallery where he and
Lady Grace had sat, amid a grove of palms and flowers. Through the open
archway at a little distance came a flood of light, and a surging echo
of plaintive, appealing music. It was late, or rather early, for morning
was looking in with cold, dispassionate eyes through the long windows.
The gallery was comparatively empty for a London gathering, for the
balconies and hall were crowded, and the rooms were thinning. To all
intents and purposes they were alone. How nearly--how nearly he had
asked for what he knew woul