nswer, looked up and saw McVay was observing
them with satisfaction, so that words froze on his lips.

Here was the whole bitterness of the situation concentrated. To be
observed at all in a moment of genuine emotion was bad enough, but to be
observed by one who so plainly hoped to profit, was unbearable. Never,
said Geoffrey to himself, at that glance of triumph from McVay's clear
little eyes, never should any influence lead him to let a thief slip
through his fingers.

He realised too, for the first time, that he could not hope for another
word alone with Cecilia. McVay must always be present. It was a hideous
sort of revenge that every waking minute must be spent in the man's
company. Geoffrey had not appreciated the full meaning of his
instructions to McVay to keep always in sight. Not a word or a look
could be exchanged without McVay's seeing and rejoicing.

Yet, in spite of his irritation, he could not but admire the sort of
affectionate swagger with which McVay rose to greet her, as if the
brother of so tender a creature must remember his responsibility.

"Well, my dear," he said sitting down beside her on the sofa, "feel
better? Really a terrible experience. Holland has just been telling me
about it--saying how well you behaved," (Geoffrey favoured him with a
scowl behind her back), "a perfect heroine,--so he says."

"Mr. Holland is very kind," said the girl.

"Kind!" cried McVay enthusiastically. "Kind! I should rather think he
was. Why, I could give you instances of his kindness--"

"You need not trouble," said Geoffrey.

McVay smiled at his sister as much as to say: What did I tell you?... so
modest, so unassuming.

To Geoffrey this sort of thing was unspeakably painful. He was willing
enough to meet McVay in a grim interchange over his strange combination
of facility and crime, of doom and triviality. But when it became any
question of playing upon Cecilia's unconsciousness of the situation, he
writhed. Yet, a little discernment would have shown him how natural, how
encouraging from his own point of view her unconsciousness was. To fall
in love thoroughly is sufficiently disconcerting. Which of us needs to
be told that it is an absorbing process, that life looks different, and
that all past experiences must be reviewed in the light of this
unexpected illumination. And if this is true of the more usual forms of
the great passion, what is to be said of a girl who, in a single day,
sees and loves a re