light could not
subdue Milly's colour. As a rule, she was rather pale, but to-night
cheeks and ears were flushed deep rose colour. She looked excited and
childishly angry, her greenish-gray eyes dilated and her lips pouting.
Had she not been conscious of her new honours as a married woman and a
countess, I don't think she would have dared display her feelings at a
dinner-party of so much importance. Once or twice she stared with
narrowed gaze across the room at Eagle March, then turned to one of her
two companions in such a way as almost to advertise the fact that she
was speaking of him. She would make little impression, I thought, on
Major Skobeleff if she tried to prejudice him against Eagle; but it
might be different with the man on her other side, who knew nothing of
Captain March save what she had to tell; and even Skobeleff--though
surely he would not believe evil of his comrade--could not help
remembering. I could imagine Milly whispering: "What an awful _faux pas_
for the princess to have brought Major Vandyke and Captain March
together in her house, where they can't get away from one another for
hours, without being rude to her and the prince! Why, the man was such
an enemy of Major Vandyke's that he actually betrayed his country in the
hope of ruining his superior officer. It's a long story, but I can tell
it to you if you like. Captain March had to leave the United States army
in the most dreadful disgrace!"

She looked so like a spiteful, green-eyed cat, that I seemed to hear the
words hissed out; and as the man whose ear approached her lips was one
of the famous gossips of London, I could imagine, too, how the story
would spread and grow. Milly would certainly tell Prince and Princess
Sanzanow, also, before she went home, what a dreadful thing they had
done in asking "that notorious Captain March" to be their guest, and
especially to meet Major and Lady Diana Vandyke. Sidney, too, if he
could pile anything more on the injuries of the past, would be sure to
do his best.

As I thought these thoughts my cheeks began to burn even more hotly than
Milly's. I had been questioning Eagle about his adventures, and he had
been answering in the laconic way most brave men have when teased to
talk of themselves; but for a minute, keen though I was, I lost the
thread of narrative I had begun eagerly drawing out. This was when I met
Milly's eyes and flung a challenge from mine to hers. "Dare to hurt him
with your lying