h to get even youth's exhilaration out of them, and when she
had been in London for nearly three weeks and Cheiron was preparing to
return to his cottage, having delayed his departure much beyond his
ordinary time, she felt she could endure the martyrdom no more.

She had stilled every voice which had whispered to her that it was
indeed time that she heard some word from her lover. Because there were
now only occasional notices in the papers about his health, he was
supposed to be getting well.

"I will implore Cheiron to let me go back with him," she decided firmly,
as she went downstairs to breakfast. "I will ask if I may not go out and
see him this morning," and, comforted with this thought, she entered the
dining-room with a brisker step than usual. No one but her stepfather
was down.

He had grown accustomed, if not quite attached, to the quiet, gentle
girl, and he liked her noiseless, punctual way--they had often
breakfasted alone.

He was reading his _Chronicle_ propped up in front of him, and handed
her the _Morning Post_ from the pile by his side. He silently went on
with his cutlet which an obsequious butler had placed for his
consumption. Halcyone turned rapidly to the column where she was
accustomed to look daily for news of her lover. And there she read that
Mrs. Cricklander had been entertaining a Saturday to Monday party, and
that Mr. John Derringham's recovery was now well advanced, even his
broken ankle was mending rapidly and he hoped soon to be well.

A tight feeling grew round her heart, and her eyes dropped absently down
the columns of the engagement announcements in which she took no
interest, and then it seemed that her very soul was struck with agony as
she read:

"A marriage has been arranged and will shortly take place between the
Right Honorable John Derringham of Derringham in the County of
Northampton, Under-Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, and Mrs.
Vincent Cricklander of New York, daughter of Orlando B. Muggs of
Pittsburgh, U.S.A."

And it was here that the La Sarthe breeding stood Halcyone in good
stead, for she neither fainted nor dropped the paper--but, after a few
seconds of acute anguish, she rose and, making some little remark about
having forgotten something, quietly left the room.

CHAPTER XXIV

It is possible that, if his revolver had been lying quite near, the
morning John Derringham awoke to the remembrance that he was more or
less an engaged man, he wo