"I believe, Dick, you'd flirt with a mop if it was stuck in a petticoat," said Glen to him one day on their way to Bryanston Square. "What's it all for--practice?" "I don't ask you why you flirt with married ladies," said Dick sharply. Glen started, and looked grave. And at that time a little friendly counsel might have turned him aside, for he thought a good deal of quiet, grave Lord Henry. But he frowned, and said angrily, "He is no friend of mine. He came between us. Why should I study him?" He closed his eyes then fast to the risk and danger, giving himself up to his revived passion, and went on gliding slowly down the slope towards the precipice that threatened both. On the other side, Ruth was passing through a strange course of education. At first, in her innocency, she could hardly believe it possible, but more and more the fact dawned upon her that a kind of self-deception was going on with Marie, who apparently believed that she was furthering Ruth's happiness, while she was yielding to the delight of being once more in company with Glen, listening to his voice, living a delicious, dreamy existence, of whose danger she seemed to be unaware. Volume 3, Chapter X. A DANGEROUS ENEMY. Much as Ruth was in Marie's confidence, and sisterly as their intercourse had become, there were points now upon which each feared to touch. Of late Glen's name had ceased to be mentioned, and Ruth's feelings towards Marie were a strange intermingling of love, jealousy, and fear. Ruth was alone one day in the drawing-room, having stayed at home on account of a slight headache, while Marie had gone to make a few calls after setting down Lord Henry at his club. Ruth had taken up a book, but though she went through page after page, she had not the slightest recollection of what she had been reading, her thoughts having wandered away to Marcus Glen and Marie. "I ought to have gone with her," she thought; and then she began to tremble as she felt a kind of dread overcoming her. "It is terrible," she thought; "I cannot bear it. He does not care for me, and I cannot save him; but," she cried, setting her teeth, "I will not leave her again, and I will speak to her at once." She hesitated for a moment, as if in alarm at the determination she had made, and then moved towards the door. "I will go on there at once; she may be there. If she is not, Marcus Glen will be, and I will appeal to him, for I cannot bear this agony." It was a good resolve, one which she would have carried out; but just then she recoiled, and her heart began to beat painfully, while the blood forsook her cheeks. Mr Montaigne had softly closed the door behind him, and was advancing towards her, with a smile upon his lip, and a peculiar look in his eyes, which made her tremble. "What!" he said, "alone? This is an unexpected pleasure." "He knew I was alone," thought Ruth, "and that is why he has come."