It would not be, by any means, the first time he had made something out of the "fatal likeness," but on that, in this place, we need not dwell. He strolled along the corridor, the open letter in his hand, biting his nails and thinking over things as he went. As he approached the glass door which led into the grounds, it opened to admit a lady. At sight of him she stopped. "Cecil!" she exclaimed. Hubert looked at her. She was a magnificent woman, planned altogether on a magnificent scale, with a profusion of red-gold hair, and a pair of the biggest and brightest eyes Hubert, with all his wide experience, ever remembered to have seen. "It _is_ the Danvers!" he inwardly decided. "What a 'oner'!" But he was equal to the occasion. He generally was--more than equal. He held out his hand to her with a little sudden burst. "You!" he cried. The lady, however, did not immediately respond to his advances. On the contrary, she put her hands behind her back. "This is an unexpected pleasure. I didn't expect to see you here. I thought you were in Paris." As a matter of fact according to the most recent advices, Cecil was in Paris. But, of course, Hubert had nothing to do with that. "I only arrived last night. You--you don't seem glad to see me?" "It is rather I who should ask the question. Are you glad to see me?" There was a dryness in her tone which grated on Hubert's ears. "This is a case in which diplomacy is required. I wonder what there's been between them." Aloud he remarked, "Can you not forget and forgive?" "Cecil, do you mean it?" She glanced behind her as if in sudden agitation. "I cannot stop now. Meet me in the garden after dinner." She was gone before he even had a ghost of a chance of feeling his way. CHAPTER II. THE SECOND LADY. "Cecil! Where are you? Here?" Hubert, who had been leaning against the wall, came out into the moonlight. The lady stood on the top of the steps. The moon shone full upon her. It lit up the glory of her red-gold hair. She was clad in full evening dress. Her little opera cloak, which had slipped off her shoulders, revealed, rather than concealed, her magnificent proportions. Hubert, eying her critically from below, told himself that she was certainly a "oner!" "I am afraid I am late. I hope you haven't been waiting long." "Nothing to speak of. Just time enough to enjoy a cigar--and to dream of you." "Cecil! For shame! Is it damp? I have only my thin shoes on." She held one out in evidence. Hubert liked the look of it. "It is as dry as tinder; just the night for lovers." "I really think it is." She came down the steps. "How glorious!" Laying her hand upon his arm, she looked into his eyes with her big ones. "As you say, it is just the night for lovers." They began to stroll. She spoke-- "It seems strange, after all that has passed between us, that you and I should be walking here together." "It does seem strange." It certainly did.