"Certainly," replied the Secretary. "Will three in the afternoon do?
Alone, I suppose?"

"Thank you," said Prescott. "Three in the afternoon and alone will do."

Both spoke quietly, but the swift look of understanding passed once
more. Then they rejoined the ladies.

Prescott had not spoken to Lucia Catherwood in the whole course of the
evening, but now he sought her. Some of the charm which Mrs. Markham so
lately had for him was passing; in the presence of Lucia she seemed less
fair, less winning, less true. His own conduct appeared to him in
another light, and he would turn aside from his vagrant fancy to the one
to whom his heart was yet loyal. But he found no chance to speak to her
alone. The club by spontaneous agreement had chosen to make her its
heroine that night, and Prescott was permitted to be one of the circle,
nothing more. As such she spoke to him occasionally as she would to
others--chance remarks without colour or emphasis, apparently directed
toward him because he happened to be sitting at that particular point,
and not because of his personality.

Prescott chafed and sought to better his position, wishing to have an
individuality of his own in her regard; but he could not change the
colourless role which she assigned him. So he became silent, speaking
only when some remark was obviously intended for him, and watched her
face and expression. He had always told himself that her dominant
characteristic was strength, power of will, endurance; but now as he
looked he saw once or twice a sudden droop, faint but discernible, as if
for a flitting moment she grew too weak for her burden. Prescott felt a
great access of pity and tenderness. She was in a position into which
no woman should be forced, and she was assailed on all sides by danger.
Her very name was at the mercy of the Secretary, and now Harley with his
foolish talk might at any time bring an avalanche down upon her. He
himself had treated her badly, and would help her if he could. He turned
to find Mrs. Markham at his elbow.

"We are going in to supper," she said, "and you will have to take me."

Thus they passed in before Lucia Catherwood's eyes, but she looked over
them and came presently with Raymond.

That was a lean supper--the kitchens of Richmond in the last year of the
war provided little; but Prescott was unhappy for another reason. He was
there with Mrs. Markham, and she seemed to claim him as her own before
all those, save his m