The delightful sensation of sharing a secret with her--a love-secret known only to themselves. Think, if these Philistines guessed at it even! their faces. And at this thought Paul almost laughed aloud.

With passionate interest he absorbed every little detail about his lady. How exactly she knew what suited her. How refined and grande dame and quiet it all was, and what an air of breeding and command she had in the poise of her little Greek head.

What did it matter what age she was, or of what nation? What did anything matter since she was his? And at that thought his heart began to beat again and cause him to speculate as to his evening.

Would she let him come back to the terrace room after dinner, or must he get through the time as best he could? When he had left her, half dazed with joy and languor, no arrangements had been made--no definite plans settled. But of course she could not mean him not to wish her good-night--not now. For one second before she left the room their eyes met, she raised a red rose, which she had taken from the silver vase, casually to her lips, and then passed out, but Paul knew she had meant the kiss for him, and his whole being was uplifted.

It was still pouring with rain. No possible excuse to smoke on the terrace. It might be wiser to stay in the hall. Surely Dmitry would come with some message before very long, if he was patient and waited her pleasure. But ten o'clock struck and there was no sign. Only the English youth, Percy Trevellian, had got into conversation with him, and was proposing billiards to pass the time.