ad to see her
at her convenience.

"I will go to him," she said, and forthwith descended to meet her fate.

He stood by the window when she entered, but wheeled round at once with
his back to the light. She felt that this did not make much difference.
She knew exactly how he was looking--cold, self-contained, implacable as
granite. She had seldom seen him look otherwise. His face was a
perpetual mask to her. It was this very inscrutability of his that had
first waked in her the desire to see him among her retinue of slaves.

She went forward slowly, striving to attain at least a semblance of
composure. At first it seemed that he would wait for her where he was;
then unexpectedly he moved to meet her. He took her hand into his own,
and she shrank a little involuntarily. His touch unnerved her.

"You have slept?" he asked. "You are better?"

Something in his tone made her glance upwards, catching her breath. But
she decided instantly that she had been mistaken. He would not, he could
not, mean to be kind at such a moment.

She made answer with an assumption of pride. She dared not let herself
be natural just then.

"I am quite well. There was nothing wrong with me last night. I was only
tired."

He suffered her hand to slip from his.

"I wonder what you think of doing," he said quietly. "Have you made any
plans?"

The hot blood rushed to her face before she was aware of it. She turned
it sharply aside.

"Am I to have a voice in the matter?" she said, her voice very low. "You
did not think it worth while to consult me last night."

"You were scarcely in a fit state to be consulted," he answered gravely.
"That is why I postponed the discussion. But I was then--as I am
now--entirely at your disposal. I will take you back to your people at
once if you wish it."

She made a quick, passionate gesture of protest, and moved away from
him.

"Have you any alternative in your mind?" he asked.

She remained with her back to him.

"I shall go away," she said, a sudden note of recklessness in her
voice. "I shall travel."

"Alone?" he questioned.

"Yes, alone." This time her voice rang defiance. She wheeled round
quivering from head to foot. "But for you," she said, "but for your
unwarrantable interference I should never have been placed in this
hateful, this impossible, position. I should have been with my friends
in London. It would have been my wedding-day."

The attack was plainly unexpected. Even Caryl was