of his
feeling--"even to lending Arranstoun for the honeymoon."

So they grasped hands and sealed the bargain and got into the motor and
went on their way.

The first view of Heronac had enchanted them both, it was indeed a
unique place.

"What taste!" Henry had said. "Fancy a young woman knowing and seeing at
once the possibilities of such a place!"

"It is as grim as Arranstoun and nearly as old," Michael exclaimed. "I
am glad we came."

Sabine shrank back into Berthe's little kitchen and signalled to her not
to make known the hostess' presence--but to let the gentlemen drive over
the causeway bridge to the courtyard--where they would be told by
Nicholas that she was in the garden, and would probably be brought there
to her by Madame Imogen who would have welcomed them.

Her firm will forced her to pull herself together and decide what to do
when they should come face to face. To be totally unconcerned was the
best thing--to look and act as though Michael Arranstoun were indeed a
perfect stranger introduced to her for the first time in her life. It
would take him some moments to be certain that she was Sabine--his
wife--and he would then not be likely to make a scene before Henry--and
when the moment for plain speaking came, she would sternly demand to be
set free. She had kept silence to Henry as to who her husband really
was--for no reason except that the whole subject disturbed her
greatly--the very mention of Michael's name or the thought of him always
filling her with wild and mixed emotions. She had schooled herself in
the years that had gone by since their parting, into absolutely
banishing his memory every time it recurred. She had a vague feeling
that she must be free of him, and safe before she could even pronounce
his name to Lord Fordyce, who naturally must know eventually. There was
an unaccountable and not understood fear in her--fear that in the
discussion which must arise if she spoke of who her husband was to
Henry, that something might transpire, or that she might hear something
which would reawaken certain emotions, and weaken her determination to
break the even empty bond with Michael. And now she had seen him again
with her mortal eyes, and she knew that she was trembling and tingling
with a mad sensation of she knew not what--hatred and revulsion she
hoped! but was only sure of one aspect of it--that of wild excitement.

No one--not a single soul--neither Simone--Madame Imogen--nor Pere