the passion in you? You are a different man. Let me look at you."

She caught him by the shoulders, dragged him underneath the electric
globe, and stood there gazing into his face. The great log upon the
hearth was spluttering and fizzing. Through the closed door came the
faint wave of conversation and laughter from outside. Her breathing was
uneven, her eyes were seeking to rend the mask from his face.

"Can you have learnt to care for any one else?" she muttered. "There
were no women in Africa. This Rosamund Dominey, your reputed wife--they
tell me that she is beautiful, that you have been kindness itself to
her, that her health has improved since your coming, that she adores
you. You wouldn't dare--"

"No," he interrupted, "I should not dare."

"Then what are you looking at?" she demanded. "Tell me that?"

Her eyes were following the shadowed picture which had passed out of the
room. He saw once more the slight, girlish form, the love-seeking light
in those pleading dark eyes, the tremulous lips, the whole sweet appeal
for safety from a frightened child to him, the strong man. He felt the
clinging touch of those soft fingers laid upon his, the sweetness of
those marvellously awakened emotions, so cruelly and drearily stifled
through a cycle of years. The woman's passion by his side seemed
suddenly tawdry and unreal, the seeking of her lips for his something
horrible. His back was towards the door, and it was her cry of angry
dismay which first apprised him of a welcome intruder. He swung around
to find Seaman standing upon the threshold--Seaman, to him a very angel
of deliverance.

"I am indeed sorry to intrude, Sir Everard," the newcomer declared, with
a shade of genuine concern on his round, good-humoured face. "Something
has happened which I thought you ought to know at once. Can you spare me
a moment?"

The Princess swept past them without a word of farewell or a backward
glance. She had the carriage and the air of an insulted queen. A shade
of deeper trouble came into Seaman's face as he stepped respectfully to
one side.

"What is it that has happened?" Dominey demanded.

"Lady Dominey has returned," was the quiet reply.

CHAPTER XVII

It seemed to Dominey that he had never seen anything more pathetic than
that eager glance, half of hope, half of apprehension, flashed upon him
from the strange, tired eyes of the woman who was standing before
the log fire in a little recess of the main hall. By