"You’re feeling chilly," said Felix triumphantly. "The sun’s got behind the fort." On the lower deck of the yacht, under an awning and amid easy chairs and cushions, she had seen a tall man earnestly engaged in conversation with a young and pretty girl. She thought the man was Lord Mackworth. She felt sure it was Lord Mackworth. She wanted to turn her head and make certain, but she dared not lest he should see her. She was blushing. There was nothing whatever in the brief relations between Lord Mackworth and herself to which the slightest exception could be taken by the strictest moralist. Yet she was blushing. She blushed because of the dreams she had once had concerning him. Her old, forgotten thoughts, which nobody on earth could ever have guessed, made her into a kind of criminal. It was very strange. Perhaps also she feared a little what Lord Mackworth might think of her if he saw her in that place, in those clothes, with a man much older than herself. How inexpressibly fortunate that the yacht was leaving that night! Instead of looking over her shoulder at Lord Mackworth, she looked over her shoulder at Felix, to reassure herself about her deep fondness for him and about his reliability in even the greatest crises. "I love him," she reflected, "because he is so marvellously clever and kind and dependable and just, and because he worships me--I don’t know why." But she was devoted to him because he had picked her out of a batch and opened her eyes to the apple on the tree and made her eat it, and because she had worked and watched and suffered for him in the office, and been cast out of the office for him, and because of a funny enigmatic look in his wrinkled eyes. She would have liked him just the same if he had been cruel and undependable and had not worshipped her. And she desired ardently to be still more and more beautiful and luxurious for him, and more and more to be stared at for him, and to render him still happier and happier. She was magnificently ready to kill him with bliss. After several hundred yards she turned round and looked at the yacht. No figures were distinguishable now on the deck. She thought captiously: "I wonder who that doll was and what they were talking about with their heads so close together." III The Casino Lilian, in a _negligé_, was somnolently stretched out in the easy chair in her room when Felix peeped in. He looked at her enquiringly in silence for a moment, and she gave him a hazy smile. "Oh!" he said. "Then you won’t feel like going into the Casino to-night after all?" "Nothing to stop me," she replied, with a peculiar intonation, light and yet anxious. "Hurrah!" exclaimed Felix very gaily, almost boyishly. "Then we’ll go."