er cheeks.

He had meant that last paragraph then, and he meant it now evidently,
since he knew that she was pledged to marry Henry when she should be
free, and had made no protest. Perhaps he was glad and intended to marry
Miss Daisy van der Horn! Her tears dried suddenly--and her cheeks
burned. She must think this situation out, and not just drift. It was
plain that Michael had been astonished to the point of stupefaction on
seeing her. He could not have known then that his friend wished to marry
her--Sabine--only that his friend wished to marry the lady they were
going to see. But he knew it afterwards, he knew it at dinner--and yet
he said never a word. What could it mean? What could be best to do?
Perhaps to see him alone in the morning and ask him to grant her freedom
and get the divorce as quickly as possible. She could count upon herself
not to betray the slightest feeling in the interview. If only that
strange turn of fate had not brought Lord Fordyce into her life, what
glorious pleasure she would now take in trying her uttermost to
fascinate and attract Michael--not that she desired him for
herself!--only to punish him for all the past! But she was not free. She
had given her word to Henry. The humiliation of feeling that Michael was
making no protest, and would apparently from this fact agree willingly
to divorce her, stung her pride and made her want to make him suffer and
regret in some way. If she could believe that it was paining him, she
would be glad--and if it appeared possible to keep up the pretence of
unrecognition for longer than to-morrow, she would certainly do so; it
was a frantic excitement in any case, and she adored difficult games.
Then as she put the letter back in her despatch-box, her hand touched a
large blue enamel locket, and with a shiver she hastily shut down the
lid, and as one fleeing from a ghost she ran back to bed.

Michael meanwhile was pacing his room in deep and agitated thought.

How supremely attractive she was! And to have to give her up to Henry;
it was too frightfully cruel. But he had absolutely no right to stand in
either of their lights. He had not even the right to undermine his
friend's influence by deed or look, since he had given him his word of
honor that he would not do so. What a blind fool he had been all those
years ago to let passionate rage at Sabine's daring to leave him make
him write her that letter. He would not have done it if he had not felt
such a