of the latest news
from home, the latest fashion and the latest scandal, the amours of the
Duke of York and the shortcomings of Mr. Perceval.

Samoval, however, did not intend that the matter of her brother should
be so entirely forgotten, so lightly treated. Deliberately at last he
revived it.

Considering her as she leant upon the granite balustrade, her pink
sunshade aslant over her shoulder, her flimsy lace shawl festooned
from the crook of either arm and floating behind her, a wisp of cloudy
vapour, Samoval permitted himself a sigh.

She flashed him a sidelong glance, arch and rallying.

"You are melancholy, sir--a poor compliment," she told him.

But do not misunderstand her. Hers was an almost childish coquetry,
inevitable fruit of her intense femininity, craving ever the worship of
the sterner sex and the incense of its flattery. And Samoval, after all,
young, noble, handsome, with a half-sinister reputation, was something
of a figure of romance, as a good many women had discovered to their
cost.

He fingered his snowy stock, and bent upon her eyes of glowing
adoration. "Dear Lady O'Moy," his tenor voice was soft and soothing as
a caress, "I sigh to think that one so adorable, so entirely made
for life's sunshine and gladness, should have cause for a moment's
uneasiness, perhaps for secret grief, at the thought of the peril of her
brother."

Her glance clouded under this reminder. Then she pouted and made a
little gesture of impatience. "Dick is not in peril," she answered. "He
is foolish to remain so long in hiding, and of course he will have to
face unpleasantness when he is found. But to say that he is in peril
is... just nonsense. Terence said nothing of peril. He agreed with me
that Dick will probably be sent home. Surely you don't think--"

"No, no." He looked down, studying his hessians for a moment, then his
dark eyes returned to meet her own. "I shall see to it that he is in no
danger. You may depend upon me, who ask but the happy chance to serve
you. Should there be any trouble, let me know at once, and I will see
to it that all is well. Your brother must not suffer, since he is your
brother. He is very blessed and enviable in that."

She stared at him, her brows knitting. "But I don't understand."

"Is it not plain? Whatever happens, you must not suffer, Lady O'Moy. No
man of feeling, and I least of any, could endure it. And since if your
brother were to suffer that must bring suffering to