idea.

By a great effort of will, she controlled herself, but the impulse yet
remained--a striving, clamouring force, impotent but insistent.

There came the low, sweet notes of Violet's voice. She was singing a
Spanish love-song.

Sir Kersley Whitton fell silent. He looked at the door. Max wheeled from
the window. Olga waited tensely for the coming of her friend.

The door swung back and she entered. With her careless Southern grace
she sauntered in upon them.

"Good Heavens!" she said, breaking off in the middle of her song. "Is it
a party of mutes?"

Olga hastily and with evident constraint introduced the visitor, at
sound of whose name Violet opened her beautiful eyes to their widest
extent.

"How do you do? I had no idea a lion was expected. Why wasn't I told?"

"He is not one of the roaring kind," said Max.

Violet was looking with frank curiosity into Sir Kersley's face. "I'm
sure I've met you somewhere," she said. "I wonder where."

He smiled slightly--a smile which to Olga's watching eyes was infinitely
sad.

"I don't think you have," he said. "You may have seen my portrait."

"Ah, that's it!" She regarded him with a new interest. "I have! I
believe I've got it somewhere."

"Do you collect the portraits of celebrities?" asked Max.

She shook her head. "Oh, no! It's among my mother's things. It must have
been taken years ago. You were very handsome--in those days, weren't
you?"

"Was I?" said Sir Kersley.

"Yes. That's why I kept you. There was a bit of your hair with it, but I
burnt that." Violet's brows knitted suddenly. "My mother was handsome
too," she said. "I wonder why you jilted her!"

Sir Kersley made a slight movement, so slight that it seemed almost
involuntary. "That, my child," he said quietly, "is a very old story."

She laughed her gay, winning laugh. "Oh, of course! I expect you have
jilted dozens since then. It's the way of the world, isn't it?"

He looked into the exquisite face, still faintly smiling. "It's not my
way," he said.

There fell a sudden silence, and Olga sent an appealing glance towards
Max. He came forward instantly and clapped a practical hand upon his
friend's shoulder.

"Come and have a wash, Kersley!" he said, and with characteristic
decision marched him away.

As they went, Violet broke once more into the low, sweet refrain of her
Spanish love-song.

CHAPTER XIII

HER FATE

"How extraordinary men are!" Violet stretched her arms high