"And what is your pleasure, fair queen?" Hector said, as they listened
to the diminishing noise of the widow's Mercédès. "We are alone, and we
have the world before us. Issue your commands."

"No," said Theodora, and she pouted her red lips. "I want you to settle
that. I want you to arrange for whatever you think would give me the
greatest pleasure. Then I shall know if you understand me and guess what
I would like."

This was the most daring speech she had ever made, and she was surprised
at her own temerity.

"Very well," he said. "That means you belong to me until they return,"
and a thrill ran through him. "Has not your father, has not your
hostess, given you into my charge? And, now you yourself have sealed the
compact, we shall see if I can make you happy."

As he said the words "you belong to me," Theodora thrilled too--a
sensation as of an electric shock almost quivered through her. Belonged
to him--ah!--what would that mean?

He called his chauffeur, who started the automobile and drove under the
covered porte cochère where they stood.

Lord Bracondale had not spoken all the time he was helping her in and
arranging rugs with the tenderest solicitude, but when they were settled
and started--it was a coupé with a great deal of glass about it, so that
they got plenty of air--he turned to her.