Isabel's lips pressed her forehead. "My darling," she said, "you are such
a burden as I could not bear to be without."

That satisfied Dinah for the time; but it was not the whole of her
trouble, and presently, still clasped close to Isabel's heart, she gave
hesitating utterance to the rest.

"It would have been--so lovely--to have gone to the Hunt Ball. I should
like to dance with--with Sir Eustace again. Is he--is he really going to
stay with the de Vignes?"

"I don't know, dear. Very possibly not." Isabel's voice held a hint of
constraint though her arms pressed Dinah comfortingly close. "He will
please himself when the time comes no doubt."

Dinah did not pursue the subject, but her mind was no longer at rest. She
wondered how she could have forgotten Sir Eustace for so long, and now
that she remembered him she was all on fire with the longing to see him
again. Rose had spoken so possessively, so confidently, of him, as
though--almost as though--he had become her own peculiar property during
the long dark days in which Dinah had been wandering in another world.

Something in Dinah hotly and fiercely resented this attitude. She yearned
to know if it were by any means justified. She could not, would not,
believe that he had suffered himself to fall like other men a victim to
Rose's wiles. He was so different from all others, so superbly far above
all those other captives. And had she not heard him laugh and call Rose
machine-made?