d be a day entirely wasted."

Violet shot a glance at him from under the deep-fringed lids which had
given the critics their cue for their ravings over her Academy picture.
There was a warmth in the tone of the neatly-turned little speech that
had been lacking in their intercourse of late. The millionaire's
daughter had never disguised from herself the singular attraction which
this sun-browned, well-knit young soldier from India had for her from
the moment of their first meeting a month ago. And he had begun to woo
her so bravely and openly, only to slacken his ardour after a week into
an indifference which was almost insult after such warm beginnings.

No woman of spirit cares to be treated like goods sent out "on
approval"--to be analytically inspected and then cast aside as not quite
up to the mark. Especially if she happens to be the acknowledged beauty
of the London season, and so lavishly dowered as to have had half the
bachelor peerage at her feet. It speaks wonders, therefore, for the
efficiency as a lover which Leslie Chermside had shown when he wasn't in
love, that now, when he was, Violet should have behaved as she did.

"Let us go and be lazy on that seat by the sundial in the rose garden,"
she said, with a smile of invitation.

It was all that Leslie asked for--to be near her, to worship her, to
feel her gracious presence, and, above all, by his unceasing
watchfulness, to avert the peril of the steamer with the giant
horse-power lurking thirty miles away along the coast. That was all that
was in his mind as he wheeled his bicycle at her side over the turf that
lay between the drive and the rosery. But half an hour amid the late
blooms of the old world pleasaunce was to alter all that modest scheme.
Leslie Chermside had made the mistake of reckoning without heed to the
power that had them in thrall--the mighty power of love.

Neither of them ever knew how it came about. When they first sat down
there was a shy constraint between them that seemed to hold them apart.
They talked at random of trifles, with an obvious effort at searching
for subjects. Violet even referred to the inquest on Levison, though in
such a manner as to show that she plainly took only a superficial
interest in it. It made Leslie shudder to hear her touch so lightly on
a matter in which, though she was not aware of it, she was so nearly
concerned.

Gradually and imperceptibly the awkward attempt at making conversation
ceased, and t