As she approached the drawing-room door, Harry Belfield came out of it. He started a little to see her--not that it was strange she should be there, but because he had not seen her alone since the night of the stolen kiss. He closed the door behind him and came to her. "Vivien"--a jerk of his head told that Vivien was in the drawing-room--"has sent me to say 'How do you do?' to Mr. Wellgood." "He's in his study, Mr. Harry. Don't stay long. He's very busy." She drew aside, to let him pass, but Harry stood still. "Are you never going to give me an opportunity?" he asked in a low voice. "An opportunity for what?" Harry jumped at the chance of his confession and absolution. "Why, of saying how awfully sorry and--and ashamed I am that I yielded--" "What's the use of saying anything about it? It's best forgotten." "Now Wellgood's back?" he whispered, with a flash of his eyes. "Certainly best forgotten, now that Vivien's father is back." He shook his head at her with a smile, owning her skilful parry. "You won't give me one chance?" "Does the dashing Mr. Harry Belfield need to have chances given him? I thought he made them for himself." Harry's eyes gleamed. "I'll take you at your word in that!" "You've been in no hurry about it up to now--and you seem in none to say 'How do you do?' to Mr. Wellgood." She motioned him to go on, adding, "It was very silly, but no harm's done. We'll forget." Harry gave her a long look. She met it with a steady smile. He held out his hand. "Thank you. We'll forget. There's my hand on it." She gave a little laugh, shook her head, and put her hands behind her back. "I seem to remember it began that way before," she said, and darted past him swiftly. That was how they set about forgetting the stolen kiss. Chapter XIII. A LOVER LOOKS PALE.