Roma was sitting quite alone in the empty ball-room, when, to her great surprise, Beauchamp rejoined her. She had not liked his deserting her so unceremoniously, but this unexpected reappearance alarmed her: still she determined to seem to suspect nothing out of the common. "So you haven't forgotten me after all, Beauchamp?" she said good-humouredly. "You needn't have come back for me though, I don't care about any supper." "Don't you really? Come now, that's quite a fortunate coincidence," said Captain Chancellor, seating himself deliberately beside her, "for as it happens I don't want any either. We can spend the interval that less ethereal beings than you and I, Roma, devote to vulgar eating and drinking in a little congenial conversation." "But your partner?" objected Roma; "that is to say, the lady you took in to supper. What will she be thinking of you?" "I didn't take any one in to supper," replied Captain Chancellor, composedly. "The reason I deserted you so unceremoniously was only that I had promised Lady Exyton to tell Vandeleur where she was to be found, and I had forgotten." Roma, who was really rather hungry, began to long for the comparative safety of the crowded supper-room. How she wished now she had not told that useless little fib about not wanting anything to eat. "What is the matter?" asked Beauchamp, presently. "What are you looking so unhappy about?" "I am tired," she answered hastily. "I have got a little headache. I wish I could get a cup of tea, but I suppose there would be no chance of such a thing so late in the evening." "Every chance," replied he; and for one happy moment Miss Eyrecourt thought he was going to volunteer an expedition in search of it. "If you will wait till the supper is over I will guarantee your getting it. I am so sorry you are tired, Roma, but I have not thought you looking well for some time. You may have fancied I did not notice your looks or think about you, but if so you have been mistaken." There was the unmistakable tone of a prelude in this little speech. Roma grew desperate, as a last hope she tried to offend him. "I am not obliged to you for noticing my looks," she said haughtily--"still less for commenting upon them. There are few things I dislike more than remarks of the kind. I am tired, as I told you, Beauchamp, and I want to sit here quietly by myself. It will oblige me very much if you will go away and leave me alone." Captain Chancellor had risen from his seat and stood before her, looking down on her flushed face, waiting quietly till she had come to the end of her not very civil speech. He was perfectly cool. Roma hardly understood the expression of his face, but she felt that, so far at least in the interview, he had the advantage of her.