psychologist recognizes and cannot explain. And that impulse,
after throwing him at Mrs. Lyeth's feet and dictating a letter to her,
left his conscience unruffled and at peace.

His pulse, however, still was stirred. And, the letter completed, he was
not in a greater hurry to do anything else than to get it safely in her
hand. The manner in which this was to be accomplished was another
matter. He might offer it to her in person, or he might leave it in her
room. He might even watch his opportunity and slip it into her hand;
but, for that, he immediately reflected he would have to wait the
opportunity--a tedious operation at best; and, moreover, was he not in
haste? And as he mused he remembered that Dugald Maule, a New Yorker
like himself, finding himself in similar strait, had, under the very
nose of a duenna, deliberately abstracted a handkerchief from his
inamorata's pocket, and, wrapping a letter up in it, handed it back with
the civilest inquiry as to whether she had not just let the handkerchief
fall? That was a remarkably neat trick, Tancred told himself, but
somehow it seemed to demand a degree of assurance of which he felt
unpossessed. Besides, it was a trick, and as such distasteful to him.
And as he twirled his moustache, vaguely perplexed, undecided in what
way to act, determining that it were better perhaps to leave it all to
chance, he caught a glimpse of Mrs. Lyeth entering the pavilion alone.
She was in white from head to foot, alluring as spring, and doubtless
every whit as fragrant; she moved easily, her body erect and unswayed,
and as Tancred caught sight of her he would have taken his chances then
and there, but almost simultaneously he saw Liance following behind. In
the annoyance he filliped forefinger and thumb together, and tried to
possess his soul with patience. It was not impossible that in a moment
the girl might go, and then his time would come. Meanwhile it behooved
him to be careful and to remain unseen. But no, Liance must have seated
herself at the other side of the pavilion, for he could hear Mrs. Lyeth
address her, and the murmurs of the girl's replies. Presumably they
would remain together until tiffin, and if before tiffin the note was
not delivered, another afternoon, the evening too, perhaps, would be
wasted and lost.

And as he thought of this, behind him he divined rather than heard
Atcheh's noiseless tread. He turned at once. Another idea had come to
him, one on which he deter