ted on
the circle's edge to look and listen, glancing askance at Malcourt with
a curiosity unaccustomed.

That young man with his well-made graceful figure, his dark hair and
vivid tints, had never particularly impressed Hamil. He had accepted him
at his face value, lacking the interest to appraise him; and the
acquaintance had always been as casual and agreeable as mutual
good-humour permitted. But now Malcourt, as a type, attracted his
attention; and for a moment he contrasted this rather florid example
with the specimens of young men around him. Then he looked at Shiela
Cardross. Her delicately noble head was bent a trifle as she listened
with the others to Malcourt's fluent humour; and it remained so, though
at moments she lifted her eyes in that straight, questioning gaze which
left the brows level.

And now she was replying to Malcourt; and Hamil watched her and listened
to her with newer interest, noting the poise, the subtle reserve under
the gayest provocation of badinage--the melody of her rare laughter,
the unaffected sweetness of her voice, and its satisfying
sincerity--satisfying as the clear regard from her lifted eyes.

Small wonder men were attracted; Hamil could understand what drew
them--the instinctive recognition of a fibre finer and a metal purer
than was often found under the surface of such loveliness.

And now, as he watched her, the merriment broke out again around her,
and she laughed, lifting her face to his in all its youthfully
bewildering beauty, and saw him standing near her for the first time.

Without apparent reason a dull colour rose to his face; and, as though
answering fire with fire, her fainter signal in response tinted lip and
cheek.

It was scarcely the signal agreed upon for their departure; and for a
moment longer, amid the laughing tumult, she sat looking at him as
though confused. Malcourt bent forward saying something to her, but she
rose while he was speaking, as though she had not heard him; and Hamil
walked through the circle to where she stood. A number of very young men
looked around at him with hostile eyes; Malcourt's brows lifted a
trifle; then he shot an ironical glance at Shiela and, as the circle
about her disintegrated, sauntered up, bland, debonair, to accept his
conge.

His bow, a shade exaggerated, and the narrowed mockery of his eyes
escaped her; and even what he said made no impression as she stood,
brightly inattentive, looking across the little th