y friend."

"We might go on after dinner," he suggested eagerly.

She shook her head.

"I'd rather not," she admitted. "My brain is too full. I have a hundred
fancies dancing about. I even find myself, as we sit here, rehearsing
my gestures, tuning myself to a new outlook. Oh! You most disturbing
person--intellectually of course, I mean," she added, laughing into his
face. "Take off my rugs and help me up. No, we'll leave them there.
Perhaps, after dinner, we might walk for a little time."

"But the whole thing is tingling in my brain," he protested. "Couldn't we
go into the library? We could find a corner by ourselves."

She turned and looked at him, standing up now, the wind blowing her
skirts, her eyes glowing, her lips a little parted. Then for the first
time he understood her beauty, understood the peculiar qualities of it,
the dissensions of the Press as to her appearance, the supreme charm of a
woman possessed of a sweet and passionate temperament, turning her face
towards the long-wished-for sun. Even the greater things caught hold of
him in that moment, and he felt dimly what was coming.

"Do you really wish to work?" she asked.

He looked away from her.

"No!" he answered, a little thickly. "We will talk, if you will."

They neither of them moved. The atmosphere had suddenly become charged
with a force indescribable, almost numbing. In the far distance they saw
the level line of lights from a passing steamer. Mr. Raymond Greene, with
his hands in his ulster pockets, suddenly spotted them and did for them
what they seemed to have lost the power to do.

"Hullo!" he exclaimed. "I've been looking for you two everywhere. I don't
want to hurt that smoking room steward's feelings. He's not bad at
his job. But," he added confidentially, dropping his voice and taking
them both by the arm, "I have made a cocktail down in my stateroom--it's
there in the shaker waiting for us, something I can't talk about. I've
given Lawton one, and he's following me about like a dog. Come right this
way, both of you. Steady across the gangway--she's pitching a little.
Why, you look kind of scared, Mr. Romilly. Been to sleep, either of you?"

Philip's laugh was almost too long to be natural. Elizabeth, as though by
accident, had dropped her veil. Mr. Raymond Greene, bubbling over with
good nature and anticipation, led them towards the stairs.

CHAPTER VIII

Mr. Raymond Greene could scarcely wait until Philip had taken hi