arry
Feversham watched Ethne laugh and talk as though she had never a care,
and was perpetually surprised, taking no thought that he wore the like
mask of gaiety himself. When she swung past him the light rhythm of her
feet almost persuaded him that her heart was in the dance. It seemed
that she could even command the colour upon her cheeks. Thus they both
wore brave faces as she had bidden. They even danced together. But all
the while Ethne was conscious that she was holding up a great load of
pain and humiliation which would presently crush her, and Feversham felt
those four feathers burning at his breast. It was wonderful to him that
the whole company did not know of them. He never approached a partner
without the notion that she would turn upon him with the contemptuous
name which was his upon her tongue. Yet he felt no fear on that account.
He would not indeed have cared had it happened, had the word been
spoken. He had lost Ethne. He watched her and looked in vain amongst
her guests, as indeed he surely knew he would, for a fit comparison.
There were women, pretty, graceful, even beautiful, but Ethne stood
apart by the particular character of her beauty. The broad forehead, the
perfect curve of the eyebrows, the great steady, clear, grey eyes, the
full red lips which could dimple into tenderness and shut level with
resolution, and the royal grace of her carriage, marked her out to
Feversham's thinking, and would do so in any company. He watched her in
a despairing amazement that he had ever had a chance of owning her.

Only once did her endurance fail, and then only for a second. She was
dancing with Feversham, and as she looked toward the windows she saw
that the daylight was beginning to show very pale and cold upon the
other side of the blinds.

"Look!" she said, and Feversham suddenly felt all her weight upon his
arms. Her face lost its colour and grew tired and very grey. Her eyes
shut tightly and then opened again. He thought that she would faint.
"The morning at last!" she exclaimed, and then in a voice as weary as
her face, "I wonder whether it is right that one should suffer so much
pain."

"Hush!" whispered Feversham. "Courage! A few minutes more--only a very
few!" He stopped and stood in front of her until her strength returned.

"Thank you!" she said gratefully, and the bright wheel of the dance
caught them in its spokes again.

It was strange that he should be exhorting her to courage, she thanki