A little shudder runs through her. At this moment it seems to her that she could never really have so regarded him. And yet only last night---- And now. What is it? Does she still doubt? Will that strange, curious, tormenting feeling that once she felt for him return no more. Is it gone forever? Oh! that it might be so! CHAPTER XXII. "So over violent, or over civil!" "A man so various." "Dull looking day," says Dicky Browne, looking up from his broiled kidney to glare indignantly through the window at the gray sky. "It can't be always May," says Beauclerk cheerfully, whose point it is to take ever a lenient view of things. Even to heaven itself he is kind, and holds out a helping hand. "I expect it is we ourselves who are dull," says Lady Baltimore, looking round the breakfast table, where now many vacant seats make the edges bare. Yesterday morning Miss Maliphant left. To-day the Clontarfs, and one or two strange men from the barracks in the next town. Desertion indeed seems to be the order of the day. "We grow very small," says she. "How I miss people when they go away." "Do you mean that as a liberal bribe for the getting rid of the rest of us," says Dicky, who is now devoting himself to the hot scones. "If so, let me tell you it isn't good enough. I shall stay here until you choose to cross the channel. I don't want to be missed." "That will be next week," says Lady Baltimore. "I do beseech all here present not to forsake me until then." "I must deny your prayer," says Lady Swansdown. "These tiresome lawyers of mine say they must see me on Thursday at the latest." "I shall meet you in town at Christmas, however," says Lady Baltimore, making the remark a question. "I hardly think so. I have promised the Barings to join them in Italy about then." "Well, here then in February." Lady Swansdown smiles at her hostess, but makes no audible reply. "I suppose we ought to do something to-day," says Lady Baltimore presently, in a listless tone. It is plain to everybody, however, that in reality she wants to do nothing. "Suggest something, Dicky." "Skittles," says that youth, without hesitation. Very properly, however, no one takes any notice of him. "I was thinking that if we went to 'Connor's Cross,' it would be a nice drive," says Lady Baltimore, still struggling with her duties as a hostess. "What do you say, Beatrice?" "I pray you excuse me," says Lady Swansdown. "As I leave to-morrow, I must give the afternoon to the answering of several letters, and to other things besides." "Connor's Cross," says Joyce, idly. "I've so often heard of it. Yet, oddly enough, I have never seen it; it is always the way, isn't it, whenever one lives very close to some celebrated spot." "Celebrated or not, it is at least lovely," says Lady Baltimore. "You really ought to see it."