thousands! Quite a quarter of a million, isn't it? Well, of course, no
use saying they won't come in handy--no use being hypocritical over
it--horrid thing a hypocrite!--well, those thousands naturally have
their charm, too.

He rose, flung his cigarette aside (it was finished as far as careful
enjoyment would permit), and rang for his servant to pack his
portmanteaux. He was going to the Court by the morning train.

* * * * *

Now that he is here, however, he restrains the ardor, that no doubt is
consuming him, with altogether admirable patience, and waits for the
chance that may permit him to lay his valuable affections at Joyce's
feet. A dinner to be followed by an impromptu dance at the Court
suggests itself as a very fitting opportunity. He grasps it. Yes,
to-morrow evening will be an excellent and artistic opening for a thing
of this sort. All through luncheon, even while conversing with Joyce and
Miss Maliphant on various outside topics, his versatile mind is
arranging a picturesque spot in the garden enclosures wherein to make
Joyce a happy woman!

Lady Swansdown, glancing across the table at him, laughs lightly. Always
disliking him, she has still been able to read him very clearly, and his
determination to now propose to Joyce amuses her nearly as much as it
annoys her. Frivolous to the last degree as she is, an honest regard for
Joyce has taken hold within her breast. Lord Baltimore, too, is
disturbed by his brother's present.

CHAPTER XLIV.

"Love took up the harp of life and smote on all the chords with
might;
Smote the chord of self, that, trembling, passed in music out of
sight."

Lady Swansdown is startled into a remembrance of the present by the
entrance of somebody. After all Dicky, the troublesome, was right--this
is no spot in which to sleep or dream. Turning her head with an indolent
impatience to see who has come to disturb her, she meets Lady
Baltimore's clear eyes.

Some sharp pang of remorse, of fear, perhaps, compels her to spring to
her feet, and gaze at her hostess with an expression that is almost
defiant. Dicky's words had so far taken effect that she now dreads and
hates to meet the woman who once had been her stanch friend.

Lady Baltimore, unable to ignore the look in her rival's eyes, still
advances toward her with unfaltering step. Perhaps a touch of disdain,
of contempt, is perceptible in her own gaze, becaus