-tips gingerly on his sleeve.

"So!" he said in a whisper--"so! What a trick for Fate to play me! And I
have been wondering where on earth you had disappeared to. Can you ever
forgive me?"

"Never!" I answered, as I went down the marble staircase side by side
with him.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE BARGAIN

The memory of that long, dragging, magnificent meal is like a nightmare
to me. I loathed it all, the vulgar display of gold plate--I heard
afterwards who it was that Garret Dawson had cheated out of it--the
number of men-servants, the exotic flowers that made the room sickly,
the fruits out of their season.

We are simple people and not accustomed to such banquets; but I was
surprised to see how greedy some of the ladies were over the turtle
soup, the ortolans and truffles, all the fine things which must have
been brought from far off for the dinner. There was an incessant popping
of champagne corks, and I wondered at the frequent refilling of the
glasses. I did not drink wine--my grandmother did not consider it
becoming in a girl--and it seemed the hardest thing in the world to
procure a glass of water, judging by the delay in bringing it when I
asked for it.

Lady Ardaragh sat nearly opposite to us. I noticed that she was very
flushed and her eyes bright, and that she chattered and laughed a great
deal.

I had made up my mind that I would not speak to Richard Dawson, although
I was forced to sit by him, and that was a contact which I found most
detestable. But he would talk to me and sit close to me, and once when I
had turned away from him and addressed Sir Arthur Ardaragh, who was on
the other side of me, I caught my grandmother's eye on me with a look of
appeal.

I wished my godmother had been there. She had been invited to the
dinner, but she would not go nor consent to be civil to the Dawsons. Nor
would she believe that there was anything about Uncle Luke which might
not come into the light of day.

"And if there could be," she said proudly, "I would rather it was told
than go in terror of the Dawsons. I had as lief trust the world as them
any day."

After that glance of my grandmother I did not turn away again from
Richard Dawson, much as I detested his closeness and his breath upon my
cheek. I thought the dinner would never be over. As it went on I could
not but feel that he was making himself and me conspicuous. He drank a
good deal of wine, and the more he drank the more he leant to me and
t