Dick's arm, took the pistol from his hand.

"No more of this--no more. The duel has been too much like reality
already."

Dick staggered to a straight-backed chair by the wall, and, sitting
down, wiped his forehead. He had grown deathly white. The flames had
been suddenly quenched within him, and he felt cold and sick. Viviette,
in alarm, ran to his side. What was the matter? Was he faint? Let her
take him into the fresh air. Austin came up. But at his approach Dick
rose and shrank away, glancing at him furtively out of bloodshot eyes.

"Yes. The heat has oppressed me. I'm not well. I'll go out."

He stumbled blindly towards the French window. Viviette followed him,
but he turned on her rudely and thrust her back.

"I'm not well, I tell you. I don't want your help. Let me alone."

He passed through the French window on to the terrace. The sky had
clouded over, and a drizzle had begun to fall.

Viviette felt curiously frightened, but she put on an air of bravado as
she came down the gallery.

"Have you all been rehearsing this little comedy?"

No mirthful response lit either face. She read condemnation in both
pairs of eyes. For the first time in her life she felt daunted,
humiliated. She knew nothing more beyond the fact that in deliberate