in.

"I want you to see this ridiculous illustration. It is the most
amusing...."

Without any hesitation she had summoned him before them all. He could
not rudely refuse her the ordinary civilities that pass current in
society. Sulkily he moved to her side.

She held up the book to him. No illustration met the eyes of the
surprised man. Joyce was pointing to a sentence in the story heavily
underscored by a pencil.

"_Why are you so cruel to me?_"

His chin dropped with amazement. Then slowly an angry flush rose to his
face. His jaw set firmly as he looked at her.

"Yes, it's certainly ridiculous ... and amusing," he said aloud.

"There's another, too," she went on quickly, recovering the book.

Her fingers turned a page or two swiftly. On the margin was a penciled
note.

"I must see you alone, Dobyans. I must."

She lifted to him a face flushed and eager, from which wounded eyes
filmy with tears appealed to him. Her shyness, her diffidence, the
childlike call upon his chivalry were wholly charming. She was a
distractingly pretty woman, and she had thrown herself upon his mercy.
Verinder began insensibly to soften, but he would not give up his
grievance.

"It's amusing, too--and unnecessary, I think," he said.

The long lashes fluttered tremulously to her cheeks. It seemed to him
that she was on the verge of unconsciousness, that the pent emotion was
going to prove too much for her.

"I--I think the story calls for it," she answered, a little brokenly.

He retorted, still carrying on the conversation that was to mean one
thing to the others in case they heard and another to them. "Depends on
the point of view, I suppose. The story is plain enough--doesn't need
any more to carry its meaning."

He was standing between her and the rest of the party. Joyce laid an
appealing hand on his coat sleeve. Tears brimmed over from the soft
eyes. She bit her lip and turned her head away. If ever a woman
confessed love without words Joyce was doing it now. Verinder's
inflammable heart began to quicken.

"Where?" he asked grudgingly, lowering his voice.

A glow of triumphant relief swept through her. She had won. But the very
nearness of her defeat tempered pride to an emotion still related to
gratitude. The warm eyes that met his were alive with thanks. She moved
her head slightly toward the window.

In another moment they stood outside, alone in the darkness. The night
was chill and she shivered at the change