With slow steps she walked across the room and sat down by the open window, gazing out into vacancy with troubled eyes. She felt no pleasurable excitement, no eager interest, in this marvellous piece of news. On the contrary, the fact that her lover held a position of so much greater importance in the estimation of the world than she had for one moment suspected, appeared to her simply and solely as an unqualified misfortune. Viewed in the light of this new discovery, his marriage with a woman who was, after all, only an artist's model, and, moreover, one weighed down by a secret that a very few inquiries on the part of the curious might reveal, became a matter of entirely different import. Such ominous forebodings, such fresh doubts and apprehensions crowded upon her, that tears burned under her eyelids, while an expression of utter misery settled upon her features. Geoffrey sped over to her side. "My own dearest darling, please, please don't look so worried about it. I'm so sorry I didn't tell you at once, but left you to find out so suddenly. I was an idiot. If you look like that, I shall never forgive myself. Why does it make you unhappy? I should have thought you'd be rather pleased, if anything. What a sigh! After all, it's not so wonderfully important. It will not make the least bit of difference to us for years and years to come--perhaps never--who can tell?" Evarne did not answer. The longer she reflected the more overwhelming appeared this unforeseen complication. Of course, as soon as her engagement became common knowledge, all sorts of people would want to learn all about her; the events of her whole past life would probably be delved into--and then--what? She wished Geoffrey would leave her alone for a time. She wanted to think. But the more anxious and depressed she appeared, the more concerned and self-reproachful he grew. "I'm not vexed with you personally, dear," she was at length compelled to explain. "You mustn't think that for a moment. Only--only----" "Only what?" "I was thinking of a part of Mrs. Browning's translation of 'Prometheus Bound.' Do you remember it? "Oh, wise was he, oh, wise was he, Who first within his spirit knew, And with his tongue proclaimed it true, That love comes best that comes unto The equal of degree! And that the poor and that the low Should seek no love from those above...." She broke off suddenly. "Oh, Geoffrey, that is true! I know it is, and it does seem so suited to us now." "I noticed you discreetly ceased before reaching the last lines, which would make the application I suppose you intend far from complimentary to me, Mistress Evarne. My soul is neither 'proud' nor 'fluttered by rows of ancestral lights,' or anything of that sort. Nothing 'flutters' it except your sweet self, so that verse does not suit at all. How dare you shake your head? Don't you believe me?"