."

And at that moment, through a gap in the flowers of the long table, they
both saw Henry's gray eyes fixed upon them with a rather questioning
surprise--and then Mrs. Forster gave the signal to the ladies, and
Sabine with the others swept from the room, leaving Michael quivering
with pain and emotion.

As for Sabine, she was trembling from head to foot.

During dinner, Moravia had had an interesting conversation with Henry.
They had spoken of all sorts of things and eventually, toward the end of
it, of Sabine.

"She is the strangest character, Lord Fordyce," Moravia said. "She is
more like a boy than a girl in some ways. She absolutely rules everyone.
When we were children, she and all the others used to call me the mother
in our games, but it was really Sabine who settled everything. She was
always the brigand captain. She got us into all the mischief of
clandestine feasts and other rule breaking--and all the Sisters simply
adored her, and the Mother Superior, too, and they used to let her off,
no matter what she did, with not half our punishments. She was the
wildest madcap you ever saw."

Henry was, of course, deeply interested.

"She is sufficiently grave and dignified now!" he responded in
admiration, his worshiping eyes turned in Sabine's direction; but it was
only when she moved in a certain way that he could see her, through the
flowers. Michael he saw plainly all the time, and perceived that he was
not boring himself.

"Her character, then, would seem to have been rather like my friend's,
Michael Arranstoun's," he remarked. "They have both such an astonishing,
penetrating vitality, one would almost know when either of them was in
the room even if one could not see them."

"He is awfully good-looking and attractive, your friend," Moravia
returned. "I have never seen such bold, devil-may-care blue eyes. I
suppose women adore him; I personally have got over my interest in that
sort of man. I much prefer courteous and more diffident creatures."

Lord Fordyce smiled.

"Yes, I believe women spoil Michael terribly, and he is perfectly
ruthless with them, too; but I understand that they like that sort of
thing."

"Yes--most of them do. It is the simple demonstration of strength which
allures them. You see, man was meant to be strong," and Moravia laughed
softly, "wasn't he? He was not designed in the scheme of things to be a
soft, silky-voiced creature like Cranley Beaton, for instance--talking
gossip