s: the profile; the
lovely line of neck; or the rope of pearls. These latter were of price,
such things as it might seldom--and then only by sacrifice--lie within
the means of Captain Tremayne to offer to the woman whom he took to
wife.

He so lost himself upon that train of thought that she was forced to
repeat her reminder.

"Una will be waiting for you, Captain Tremayne."

"Scarcely as eagerly," he answered, "as others will be waiting for you."

She laughed amusedly, a frank, boyish laugh. "I thank you for not saying
as eagerly as I am waiting for others."

"Miss Armytage, I have ever cultivated truth."

"But we are dealing with surmise."

"Oh, no surmise at all. I speak of what I know."

"And so do I." And yet again she repeated: "Una will be waiting for you."

He sighed, and stiffened slightly. "Of course if you insist," said he,
and made ready to reconduct her.

She swung round as if to go, but checked, and looked him frankly in the
eyes.

"Why will you for ever be misunderstanding me?" she challenged him.

"Perhaps it is the inevitable result of my overanxiety to understand."

"Then begin by taking me more literally, and do not read into my words
more meaning than I intend to give them. When I say Una is waiting for
you, I state a simple fact, not a command that you shall go to her.
Indeed I want first to talk to you."

"If I might take you literally now--"

"Should I have suffered you to bring me here if I did not?"

"I beg your pardon," he said, contrite, and something shaken out of his
imperturbability. "Sylvia," he ventured very boldly, and there checked,
so terrified as to be a shame to his brave scarlet, gold-laced uniform.

"Yes?" she said. She was leaning upon the balcony again, and in such a
way now that he could no longer see her profile. But her fingers were
busy at the pearls once more, and this he saw, and seeing, recovered
himself.

"You have something to say to me?" he questioned in his smooth, level
voice.

Had he not looked away as he spoke he might have observed that her
fingers tightened their grip of the pearls almost convulsively, as if to
break the rope. It was a gesture slight and trivial, yet arguing perhaps
vexation. But Tremayne did not see it, and had he seen it, it is odds it
would have conveyed no message to him.

There fell a long pause, which he did not venture to break. At last she
spoke, her voice quiet and level as his own had been.

"It is about Una."