nd his eyes sightless. Cyril
Lamont's talents had not run in the art of self-defence, and he had been
very soon powerless in the hands of this young athlete.

The Lamonts went abroad that night, and stayed there for quite six
months, during which time Anne mended her broken heart and saw the folly
of her ways.

Hector and she had never alluded to the matter all these years, only
they were intimate friends and understood each other.

Lady Bracondale adored Hector and was fond of Anne, but had no
comprehension of either. Anne was a _frondeuse_, while her mother's mind
was fashioned in carved lines and strict boundaries of thought and
action.

XVII

Meanwhile, Hector reached the opera, and made his way to the omnibus box
where he had his seat.

He felt he could not stand Morella Winmarleigh just yet. The second act
of "Faust" was almost over, and with his glass he swept the rows of
boxes in vain to find Theodora. He sat a few minutes, but restlessness
seized him. He must go to the other side and ascertain if she could be
discovered from there. Morella Winmarleigh's box commanded a good view
for this purpose, so after all he would face her.

He looked up at her opposite. She sat there with his mother, and she
seemed more thoroughly wholesomely unattractive than ever to him.

He hated that shade of turquoise blue she was so fond of, and those
unmeaning bits and bows she had stuck about. She was a large young woman
with a stolid English fairness.

Her hair had the flaxen ends and sandy roots one so often sees in those
women whose locks have been golden as children. It was a thin, dank kind
of hair, too, with no glints anywhere. Her eyes were blue and large and
meaningless and rather prominent, and her lightish eyelashes seemed to
give no shade to them.

Morella's orbs just looked out at you like the bow-windows of a sea-side
villa--staring and commonplace. Her features were regular, and her
complexion, if somewhat all too red, was fresh withal; so that,
possessing an income of many thousands, she passed for a beauty of
exceptional merit.

She had a good maid who used her fingers dexterously, and did what she
could with a mistress devoid of all sense of form or color.

Miss Winmarleigh went to the opera regularly and sat solidly through it.
The music said nothing to her, but it was the right place for her to be,
and she could talk to her friends before going on to the numerous balls
she attended.

If