yes focussed to see any thing
so near at hand. She bore the scrutiny without flinching. As soon as
Catrina's eyes were averted the mask-like stillness of her features
relaxed.

"She does not take that trouble now," added the Russian girl, in reply
to her own question. "Did you see her to-night when we were at the
piano? M. de Chauxville was talking to her. They were keeping two
conversations going at the same time. I could see by their faces. They
said different things when the music was loud. I hate her. She is not
true to Paul. M. de Chauxville knows something about her. They have
something in common which is not known to Paul or to any of us! Why do
you not speak? Why do you sit staring into the fire with your lips so
close together?"

"Because I do not think that we shall gain any thing by discussing Paul
and his wife. It is no business of ours."

Catrina laughed--a lamentable, mirthless laugh.

"That is because she is your cousin; and he--he is nothing to you. You
do not care whether he is happy or not!"

Catrina had turned upon her companion fiercely. Maggie swung round in
her chair to pick up her bracelets, which had slipped from her knees to
the floor.

"You exaggerate things," she said quietly. "I see no reason to suppose
that Paul is unhappy. It is because you have taken this unreasoning
dislike to her."

She took a long time to collect three bracelets. Then she rose and
placed them on the dressing-table.

"Do you want me to go?" asked Catrina, in her blunt way.

"No," answered Maggie, civilly enough; but she extracted a couple of
hair-pins rather obviously.

Catrina heeded the voice and not the action.

"You English are all alike," she said. "You hold one at arm's length. I
suppose there is some one in England for whom you care--who is out of
all this--away from all the troubles of Russia. This has nothing to do
with your life. It is only a passing incident--a few weeks to be
forgotten when you go back. I wonder what he is like--the man in
England. You need not tell me. I am not curious in that way. I am not
asking you to tell me. I am just wondering. For I know there is some
one. I knew it when I first saw you. You are so quiet, and settled, and
self-contained--like a person who has played a game and knows for
certain that it is lost or won, and does not want to play again. Your
hair is very pretty; you are very pretty, you quiet English girl. I
wonder what you think about behind your steady e