+-------------------------------------------------+ |Transcriber's note: | | | |Obvious typographic errors have been corrected. | | | +-------------------------------------------------+ CHALLENGE BY V. SACKVILLE-WEST [Illustration: Logo] GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY PUBLISHERS NEW YORK PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN DEDICATION ACABA EMBEO SIN TIRO, MEN CHUAJAÑI; LIRENAS, BERJARAS TIRI OCHI BUSÑE, CHANGERI, TA ARMENSALLE. EPILOGUE A man and a woman leaned idly over the balustrade watching the steady stream of guests that mounted the magnificent staircase. The marble of the balustrade was cool beneath the woman's bare arms, for it was summer, and the man, without interrupting his murmur of comment and anecdote, glanced admiringly at her, and thought that, in spite of her forty years, she, with diamonds in her hair and the great ropes of pearls over her shoulders, need not fear comparison with all the beauty of London assembled at that ball. Her beauty and dignity melted pleasantly, for him, into the wealth of the house, the lights, the abundance of flowers, and the distant orchestra. Again the idea that this woman, for the asking, would decorate his own house with her presence, and would ornament his own distinguished name, played flatteringly through his mind. He reflected with gratification that it lay within his power to do her this honour. For, a vain man, he never questioned but that the favour would lie entirely on his side. He pointed out to her the famous general on the stairs, escorting his daughter; the new American beauty; the young man recently succeeded to fabulous estates; the Indian prince who had turned the heads of half the women in London. Skilful, she paid him the compliment of interest and amusement, letting it be understood that he was himself of far greater interest to her than the personages who served as pegs to his wit. As he paused once, she revived the conversation:-- 'There is a man I have never seen before; that tall, dark man. And the handsome woman with him--she must be his wife.' 'Why must she be his wife?' he asked, amused. 'Because I am sure she is the type of woman he would marry, stately and correct; am I not right?' 'You are quite right; she is his wife. He has been and still is a very successful man; an Under-Secretary at thirty-five, and in the Cabinet before he was forty. Many people think that he will be the next Viceroy.' At that moment the man on the stairs looked up, and his eyes met those of the woman leaning on the balustrade above. 'What a wonderful face!' she exclaimed, startled, to her companion. 'Wonderful--but he looks as though he had learnt all the sorrow of the world.--He looks--what shall I say?--so weary.'