e remained in the service?" he demanded. His
voice was dry and almost accentless.

"Why not?" she returned, paling.

"You may answer that question more pleasantly than I can."

She usually avoided champagne; but she had to do something for herself
now. As for him, he took what was offered without noticing what he took,
and grew whiter and whiter; but a fixed glow gradually appeared and
remained on her cheeks; courage, impatience, a sudden anger at the
forced conditions steadied her nerves.

"Will you please prove equal to the situation?" she said under her
breath, but with a charming smile. "Do you know you are scowling? These
people here are ready to laugh; and I'd much prefer that they tear us to
rags on suspicion of our over-friendliness."

"Who is that fool woman who is monopolising your partner?"

"Rosamund Fane; she's doing it on purpose. You must try to smile now and
then."

"My face is stiff with grinning," he said, "but I'll do what I can for
you--"

"Please include yourself, too."

"Oh, I can stand their opinions," he said; "I only meet the yellow sort
occasionally; I don't herd with them."

"I do, thank you."

"How do you like them? What is your opinion of the yellow set? Here they
sit all about you--the Phoenix Mottlys, Mrs. Delmour-Carnes yonder, the
Draymores, the Orchils, the Vendenning lady, the Lawns of Westlawn--" he
paused, then deliberately--"and the 'Jack' Ruthvens. I forgot, Alixe,
that you are now perfectly equipped to carry aloft the golden hod."

"Go on," she said, drawing a deep breath, but the fixed smile never
altered.

"No," he said; "I can't talk. I thought I could, but I can't. Take that
boy away from Mrs. Fane as soon as you can."

"I can't yet. You must go on. I ask your aid to carry this thing
through. I--I am afraid of their ridicule. Could you try to help me a
little?"

"If you put it that way, of course." And, after a silence, "What am I to
say? What in God's name shall I say to you, Alixe?"

"Anything bitter--as long as you control your voice and features. Try to
smile at me when you speak, Philip."

"All right. I have no reason to be bitter, anyway," he said; "and every
reason to be otherwise."

"That is not true. You tell me that I have ruined your career in the
army. I did not know I was doing it. Can you believe me?"

And, as he made no response: "I did not dream you would have to resign.
Do you believe me?"

"There is no choice," he said coldly. "Drop