oding expression in her blue
eyes.

"No, there's nothing really the matter, auntie, and I'm quite well,"
Myra said, in answer to her ladyship's questions; "but--oh, I can't
explain, but I feel fed up with everything. I don't think I shall go
to the Cavendish's dance to-night."

"What, or who, has made you suddenly feel 'fed up with everything,' as
you put it?" inquired Lady Fermanagh. "You seemed in quite good
spirits at lunch-time. I noticed Don Carlos de Ruiz's card in the
salver in the hall as I came in. Was it he, by any chance, who upset
you, Myra?"

Myra's fair face blushed hotly, and she hesitated before replying.
Then, impulsively, she decided to tell her aunt everything, and did so.

Lady Fermanagh listened in grave--almost grim--silence, and with a
troubled look in her fine eyes.

"My dear, do you realise that you have brought this on yourself?" she
asked quietly, when she had heard Myra out. "I warned you at
Auchinleven that you would be playing with fire, and that it was
extremely dangerous to trifle with a Spaniard. You deliberately set
yourself out to play the part of siren, to make Don Carlos fall in love
with you, and----"

"He had deliberately laid himself out before that to make me fall in
love with him, and pleaded that he was only amusing himself when he was
challenged," interrupted Myra. "That was an insult, and I wanted my
revenge. If he did not expect me to take him seriously, he had no
right to take me seriously, no right to take advantage and to kiss me
as he did this afternoon. Now you are throwing the blame on me, just
as he did himself! Why should there be one law for the man and another
for the woman? It isn't fair!"

"My dear Myra, do try to preserve some sense of proportion," said Lady
Fermanagh gently. "Admittedly it was quite wrong of Don Carlos to make
passionate love to you, knowing you were betrothed to Tony, but, as I
have told you repeatedly, he was probably only following the custom of
his race and did not expect to be taken seriously in the first
instance."

"And is it an unheard-of thing in Spain for a betrothed girl to play
the part of coquette, and to flirt with the men who make love to her?"
interposed Myra again.

"No, no, not at all, but I need hardly remind you, Myra, that in
England that sort of thing simply 'isn't done.' Besides, yours was no
mere flirtation. You set out to fascinate and captivate Don Carlos, to
make him fall madly in love with