scornful eyes of Miss Penrhyn as she dropped the portière from her
hand. Dartmouth kicked aside a footstool with an exclamation of
anger. He was acutely conscious of having been caught in a ridiculous
position, and moreover, he would not be the chief sufferer.

"Oh, Harold! Harold!" gasped Margaret, "I am ruined. You know what
women are. By this time to-morrow that girl will have told the story
all over Paris."

The words made Dartmouth forget his personal annoyance for the moment.
"Do not cry any more," he said, kindly; "I am awfully sorry, but I
will see what I can do. I will make a point of meeting the girl, and
I will see that--do not worry. I will go at once, and you had better
remain here for the present. There is no danger of anyone intruding
upon you: this room was never intended for three." He paused a moment.
"Good-bye, Margaret!" he said.

She started sharply, but rose to her feet and put out her hand:
"Good-bye," she said.

He lifted her hand to his lips, then the portière fell behind him and
she was alone.

He went directly to the ball-room and asked Hollington to present him
to Miss Penrhyn. She was standing with her back to him and did not
notice his approach, and his name was pronounced while her eyes were
still on the face of the man to whom she was talking. She gave him a
glance of swift scorn, bent her head haughtily, and all but turned her
back upon him. But Dartmouth, indolent and lazy as he was, was not the
man to be lightly disposed of when once roused to action.