scarcely a word.

Then Nina rose, holding her head very high. He embarrassed her, and she
strongly resented being embarrassed.

Wingarde at once rose also. He looked more massive than usual, almost as
if braced for a particular effort.

"Going already?" he said. "Good-night!"

"Good-night!" said Nina.

She glanced at him with momentary indecision. Then she held out her
hand.

He took it and kept it.

"I think you will have to kiss me on our wedding night," he said.

She turned very white. The hunted look had returned to her eyes. She
answered him with the rapidity of desperation.

"You can do as you like with me now," she said. "I am not able to
prevent you."

"You mean you would rather not?" he said, without the smallest hint of
anger or disappointment in his tone.

She started a little at the question. There was no escaping the
searching of his eyes.

"Of course I would rather not," she said.

He released her quivering hand and walked quietly to the door.

"Good-night, Nina!" he said, as he opened it.

She stood for a moment before she realized that he had yielded to her
wish. Then, as he waited, she made a sudden impulsive movement towards
him.

Her fingers rested for an instant on his arm.

"Good-night--Hereford!" she said.

He looked down at her hand, not offering to touch it. His lips relaxed
cynically.

"Don't overwhelm me!" he said.

And in a flash she had passed him with blazing eyes and a heart that was
full of fierce anger. So this was his reception of her first overture!
Her cheeks burnt as she vowed to herself that she would attempt no more.

She did not see her husband again that night.

When they met in the morning, he seemed to have forgotten that they had
parted in a somewhat strained atmosphere. The only peculiarity about
his greeting was that it did not seem to occur to him to shake hands.

"There is plenty to do if you're feeling energetic," he said. 'Driving,
riding, mountaineering, boating; which shall it be?"

"Have you no preference?" she asked, as she faced him over the
coffee-urn.

He smiled slightly.

"Yes, I have," he said. "But let me hear yours first!"

"Driving," she said at once. "And now yours?"

"Mine was none of these things," he answered. "I wonder what sort of
conveyance they can provide us with? Also what manner of horse? Are you
going to drive or am I? Mind, you are to state your preference."

"Very well," she answered. "Then I'll drive, plea