a few
moments they came to the gates of Bath House. He took the cloak from
her shoulders. "It would exceed the bounds of decorum should I escort
you further," he said formally. "If you will hasten you will not take
cold. Good night."

She thanked him and ran up the steps and, avoiding the saloon, to her
own room.

"I have begun well," she thought triumphantly. "No one could say that
I have not done my part. And if he does not drink for three
months--who knows?"

CHAPTER IX

Anne conceived more respect for Lord Hunsdon as the days went on, for
there was no doubt that his stratagem, carefully planned and carried
out, was succeeding. Whether Warner suspected his object or not no one
could guess, but that he was flattered and encouraged there could be
no question. Invitations to Bath House descended in showers. He
breakfasted, lunched, dined there, drove with the ladies in the
afternoon, and finally summoned up courage to be host at a picnic in
the hills. He was still shy and quiet, but he no longer looked abject
and listless. His shoulders were less bowed, even his skin grew more
normal of hue, the flesh beneath it firmer. It might be a fool's
paradise; these spoilt people of the world might have forgotten
him before their return next winter, but the mere fact that they
overlooked his flagrant insults to society and once more permitted him
to become an active member of his own class was enough to soothe ugly
memories and make the blood run more freely in his veins.

Anne treated him with a uniform courtesy and flattering animation, but
made no opportunities for private conversation, and he on his side
made no overt attempt at deliberate approach. On the contrary,
although she often caught him regarding her steadily, sometimes with a
sadness that made her turn aside with a paling colour, he seemed
rather to avoid her than otherwise. Not so Lord Hunsdon. He was ever
at her side in spite of her manifest indifference, and daily confided
to her his delight in Warner's response, and his hopes. He joined her
in no more of her walks, but he rarely failed to attend her in the
orchard in the afternoon--where the younger guests never tired of
watching the little black boys scramble up the tall thin smooth
cocoanut trees, and, grinning and singing amidst the thick mass of
leaves at the top, shake down the green delicious fruit--or in the
saloon after dinner. Frequently he invited a small party to take
grenadilla ices o