ussion of the matter
while he was in his present humour would serve no purpose. The curt,
almost hectoring manner of his speech irritated her, while the jealousy
from which it sprang made no appeal to her by way of an excuse, as it
might have done had she loved him. She was glad when the evening came
to an end, but she was still in a sore and angry frame of mind when she
joined Rooke in the music-room the following day.

He speedily divined that something had occurred to ruffle her, and
without endeavouring to elicit the cause--possibly he felt he could
make a pretty good guess at it!--he set himself to amuse and entertain
her. He was so far successful in his efforts that before very long she
had almost forgotten her annoyance of the previous evening and was deep
in a discussion regarding the work of a certain modern composer.

Engrossed in argument, neither Maryon nor Nan noticed, the hum of a
motor approaching up the drive, and when the door of the room was
thrown open to admit Roger Trenby neither of them was able to repress a
slight start. Instantly a dark look of anger overspread Roger's face
as he advanced into the room.

"Good morning, Rooke," he said, nodding briefly but not offering his
hand. "So the portrait is finished at last, I see."

Nan glanced across at him anxiously. There was something in his manner
that filled her with a quick sense of apprehension.

"Not quite," replied Rooke easily. "I'm afraid we've been idling this
morning. There are still a few more touches I should like to add."

Roger crossed the room, and, standing in front of the picture, surveyed
it in silence.

"I think," he said at last, "that I'm satisfied with it as it is. . . .
It will look very well in the gallery at Trenby."

Rooke's eyes narrowed suddenly.

"The portrait isn't for sale," he observed.

"Of course not--to anyone other than myself," replied Roger composedly.

"Not even to you, I'm afraid," answered Rooke. "I painted it for the
great pleasure it gave me and not from any mercenary motive."

Nan, watching the two men as they fenced, saw a sudden flash in Roger's
eyes and his under jaw thrust itself out in a manner with which she was
only too familiar.

"Then may I ask what you intend to do with it?" he demanded. There was
something in the dead level of his tone which suggested a white-hot
anger forcibly held in leash.

"I thought--with Nan's permission--of exhibiting it first," said Rooke
placidl