have died
rather than show her hurt. Not one of those slender and sparkling
gentlemen but would have found swords or pistols the only settlement for
Dalton's withdrawal at such a moment.

And she was one of them--one of that prideful group. There came to her a
sense of strength in that association. What had been done could be done
again. Other women had hidden broken hearts. Other women had held their
heads high in the face of disappointment and defeat. There were
traditions of the steadfastness of those smiling men and women. Some
day, perhaps, she would have her portrait painted, and she would
be--smiling.

She had no fear now of their glances, as she passed them on the stairs,
as she met them in the upper hall. What she had to bear she must bear in
silence, and bear it like a Bannister.

CHAPTER IX

"T. BRANCH"

I

Dalton felt that Fate had played a shabby trick. He had planned a
graceful exit and the curtain had stuck; he had wanted to run away, and
he could not. Flora was very ill, and it was, of course, out of the
question to desert Oscar.

Madge had been sent for. She was to arrive on the noon train. He had
promised Oscar that he would drive down for her. The house was in a
hubbub. There were two trained nurses, and a half-dozen doctors. The
verdict was unanimous, Flora could not be moved, and an operation was
imperative.

And in the meantime there was the thought of Becky beating at his heart.
With miles between them, the thing would have been easy. Other interests
would have crowded her out. But here she was definitely within
reach--and he wanted her. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted
Madge, more than he had ever wanted any other woman. There had been a
sweetness about her, a dearness.

He thought it over as he lay in bed waiting for his breakfast. Since
waking, he had led Kemp a life of it.

"Of all the fools," he said, when at last the tray came.

"Anything the matter, sir?"

George lifted a silver cover. "That's not what I ordered."

"You said a kidney omelette, sir."

"I wanted the kidney broiled--not in a messy sauce. Take it away."

"I'll get you another."

"I don't want another. Take it away." He flung his napkin on the tray
and turned his face to the wall. "I've got a headache. Tell Waterman
that if he asks for me, that I've told you to go down and meet Miss
MacVeigh."

Kemp stood and looked at the figure humped up under the light silk
cover. He had long patien