wer-pale face and shoulders emerged like a
water-lily starring the dark pool on which it floats. A crimson rose
glowed just above her heart--that and her softly scarlet lips the only
touches of colour against the rare black-and-white loveliness of her.

She was descending the stairs reluctantly, mentally occupied in screwing
up courage to fulfil her promise to Davilof. A 'phone message from
Friars' Holm had come through saying that Coppertop was better. All
danger was passed and there was no longer any need for her to return
early. So it remained, now, for her to keep her pact with the musician.

As she rounded the last bend in the staircase, she saw that a man was
standing with bent head at the foot of the stairs, apparently waiting
for someone, and she threw a quick, nervous glance in the direction of
the motionless figure, thinking it might be Davilof himself. It would be
like his eager impatience to await her coming there. Then, as the lights
gleamed on fair, crisply waving hair she realised that the man was
Michael--Michael, whom she believed to be on his way to Spain!

Perhaps it was merely chance, or perhaps it was at the direct
inspiration of Lady Arabella, but, whatever may have been the cause,
Gillian had not confided to Magda that Quarrington was to be at her
godmother's reception. The sudden, totally unexpected meeting with
him--with this man who had contrived to dominate her thoughts so
inexplicably--startled a little cry of surprise from her lips. She drew
back abruptly, and then--quite how it happened she could not tell--but
she missed her footing and fell.

For the fraction of a second she experienced a horrible sensation of
utter helplessness to save herself; then Michael's arms closed round her
as he caught her before she reached the ground.

The shock of the fall stupefied her for a moment. She lay against his
breast like a terrified child, clinging to him convulsively.

"It's all right," he murmured soothingly. "You're quite safe."

Unconsciously his arms tightened round her. His breath quickened. The
satin-soft hair had brushed his cheek as she fell; the pale, exquisite
face and warm white throat lay close beneath his lips--all the fragrant
beauty of her gathered unresisting against his heart. He had only to
stoop his head----

With a stifled exclamation he jerked himself backward, squaring his
shoulders, and released her, though he still steadied her with a hand
beneath her arm.

"There,