From landward, with unusual resonance in the deep quiet of that hour, sounded the long, dull, whining purr of a motor-car. Helena lowered the glasses, turned an ear to the sound, and came slowly back to the tea-table and Joan. Her faint smile, together with a slight elevation of her delicately darkened brows, indicated surprise. Engrossed in their argument, Matthias and Tankerville gave no heed to the threatened visitation. Resentfully, Joan detached her attention from the diamond Matthias had given her, and at discretion tossed aside a cigarette which she had been pretending to like because Helena smoked quite openly, and it was consequently the smart thing to do. Undoubtedly the car was stopping on the drive. Helena moved a few paces toward the house, paused, waited. A woman's laugh with an accent of cheerful excitement came to them. Joan saw Helena start and noticed Matthias break off a sentence in the middle and swing round in his chair. Immediately a woman ran through the doorway to the terrace, a light dust-wrap streaming from her shoulders. A man followed, but at the time Joan hardly noticed him. The woman absorbed all her interest, even though it was an interest compounded of jealousy and hostility. She was unquestionably the loveliest creature Joan had ever seen. Without moving, but staring, the girl sat transfixed with distrust and poignant envy. With a cry of wonder--"Venetia!"--Helena ran to greet these unpresaged guests. Meeting, the two women indulged in an embrace almost theatrically perfunctory. The commonplaces of such situations were breathlessly exchanged. Then Helena, disengaging turned to the man and extended a hand. "Well, Mr. Marbridge!..." she cried with a light note of semi-reproof in her laughter. At this, with a brightening smile, Marbridge bent over her hand, saying something indistinguishable to Joan. She was watching the meeting between Matthias and Venetia Marbridge. He held both her hands, and she permitted him to retain them, for a longer moment of silent greeting than Joan thought necessary. But this circumstance alone betrayed whatever constraint was felt by either. A smile, vague and perhaps not lacking a thought of tender sadness, touched the lips and eyes of Venetia. Matthias returned his twisted and indefinitely apologetic grin. "More than ever charming, Venetia!" "Thank you, Jack." If there were any hint of challenge in her tone or her straightforward eyes, Joan didn't detect it. George Tankerville submitted with open resignation to the embrace of his sister. "I suppose I've got to stand for this," he observed with philosophy. "Do you mean me to infer that you're humble and contrite?" "Not in the least," Venetia retorted defiantly. "Oh, very well," said he. "That being the case, I extend to you my belated blessing. How did you leave things on the other side?" "Much as usual--and by steamer." "When'd you get back?" "Last Monday...."