avilof had brought
her--the news of Michael's marriage. Throughout the rest of the day,
after Davilof had gone, she had forced the matter into the background of
her thoughts, and during supper she had kept up a light-hearted ripple
of talk and laughter which had deceived even Gillian, convincing her
that her apprehensions of the afternoon were unfounded.

Perhaps she was helped by the fact that Dan failed to put in
an appearance at the supper-table. It was easier to scintillate
successfully for the sole benefit of a couple of other women than under
the eyes of a man who had just ordered you out of his life. But when at
last she was alone in her own room, the sparkle was suddenly quenched.
There was no longer any need to pretend.

Michael was married! Married! And the bitterness which she had been
strenuously keeping at bay since the day, months ago now, when she had
learned from Lady Arabella that he had deliberately left England without
seeing her again swept over her in a black flood.

It had hurt her badly enough when he had gone away, but somewhere in the
depths of her consciousness there had always lurked a little fugitive
hope that he would come back--that she would be given another chance.
Now she knew that he would never come back--that one isn't always given
a second chance in this world.

And beneath the sick anguish of the realisation she was aware of a
fierce resentment--a bitter, rebellious anger that any man could make
her suffer as she was suffering now. It was unjust--a burden that
had been forced upon her unfairly. She could not help her own
character--that was a heritage with which one comes into the world--and
now she was being punished for simply having been herself!

An hour--two hours crept by. Hours of black, stark misery. The clock
in the hall struck one--a single, bell-like stroke that reverberated
through the silent house. It penetrated the numbed confusion of her
mind, rousing her to a sudden recognition of the fact that she had been
crouched so long in one position that her limbs were stiff and aching.

She drew herself up to her feet, stretching her cramped muscles. The
night was warm and the room felt stiflingly hot. She looked longingly
through the window to where the garden lay drenched in moonlight, with
cool-looking alleyways of moon-washed paths threading the black gloom of
overhanging trees, ebony-edged in the silver light.

She felt as though she could hardly breathe in the co