no color but the morbid rose of
her mouth and the brown of her eyes. Yet Mrs. Viveash, with all her
vivid gold and carmine, went out before her; so did pretty Fanny,
though fresh as paint and burnished to perfection; as for the other
women, they were nowhere. She made the long golden terrace at
Amberley a desert place for the illusion of her somber and solitary
beauty. She was warm-fleshed, warm-blooded. The sunshine soaked into
her as she stood there. What was more, she had the air of being
entirely in keeping with Amberley's grand style.

Straker saw that from the first she was aware of Furnival. At three
yards off she held him with her eyes, lightly, balancing him; then
suddenly she let him go. She ceased to be aware of him. In the
moment of introduction she turned from him to Straker.

"Mr. Straker--but--how delightful!"

"Don't say you didn't expect to see me here."

"I didn't. And Mr. Higginson!" She laughed at the positive absurdity
of it. "_And_ Mr. Lawson and Miss Probyn."

She held herself a little back and gazed upon the group with her
wide and wonderful eyes.

"You look," she said, "as if something interesting had happened."

She had seated herself beside Straker so that she faced Mrs. Viveash
and young Furnival. She appeared not to know that Furnival was
staring at her.

"_She's_ the only interesting thing that's happened--so far," he
muttered. (There was no abatement of his stare.) Mrs. Viveash tried
to look as if she agreed with him.

Miss Tarrant had heard him. Her eyes captured and held him again, a
little longer this time. Straker, who watched the two, saw that
something passed between them, between Philippa's gaze and
Furnival's stare.

III

That evening he realized completely what Fanny had meant when she
said that Philippa was more so than ever. He observed this increase
in her quality, not only in the broad, massive impression that she
spread, but in everything about her, her gestures, her phrases, the
details of her dress. Every turn of her head and of her body
displayed a higher flamboyance, a richer audacity, a larger volume
of intention. He was almost afraid for her lest she should overdo it
by a shade, a touch, a turn. You couldn't get away from her. The
drawing-room at Amberley was filled with her, filled with white
surfaces of neck and shoulders, with eyes somber yet aflood with
light, eyes that were perpetually at work upon you and perpetually
at play, that only rested for