The imperative need of the immediate moment was to end that _tête-à-tête_ now proceeding. Morris and Geoff had been alone scarcely a couple of minutes. No harm was perhaps done yet, but every second might be of consequence. How was it to be stopped--how--how? She cast about in her mind for an inspiration. Ah! was there any wisdom in belonging to that sex that men designate "the weaker," and yet never taking advantage of it in emergencies such as this? Without a second thought she gave a low cry, raised her hand to her head, let herself drop heavily upon the floor, and there lay just as she had fallen--motionless, helpless, with closed eyes and scarce fluttering breath. The anticipated result ensued. Half a minute later Geoff was on his knees hanging over her in an agony of dismay, while Winborough might have been absolutely non-existent for all the attention he was able to command. Every device known to man for the conquering of a fainting attack did Evarne allow to be vainly essayed before finally lifting her languid eyelids. A look of relief passed over three anxious countenances. Winborough stood leaning against the door, surveying the scene. His features bore an expression that might have puzzled the uninitiated, but Evarne understood. Meeting her eye, he smiled at her. Their mutual glance was scarcely more than instantaneous, but it was all-sufficient. She knew right well that not for a moment had he been deceived by her pretended swoon. Geoff's gaze, fixed intently on the face so dear to him, saw a shadow of distress pass over it as a fleeting cloud. He looked rapidly at Winborough over his shoulder, but no explanation was forthcoming from that quarter, and he turned all his attention again to his "Sweet Lady." She was supported to the open window, ensconced in an arm-chair; cushions were arranged behind her head; a footstool was brought for her feet. More than once, as Winborough watched all this care and attention, the same mocking smile hovered around his lips. "Don't leave me," murmured the invalid, laying her hand upon Geoff's arm. But even as she spoke she stole a glance at the man standing by the door. He it was with whom an undisturbed interview was essential. Each must learn the other's mind--it was imperative. "I have an idea that if I could say a few words to your cousin while I'm so ill, it might soften his heart towards me," she whispered, after a brief period of perplexed thought. "Do arrange for me to have a minute or two alone with him, to see if I cannot persuade him to think more kindly of me." "I will call him over if you like." "But I can't talk about you while you're listening. That would be embarrassing for me, wouldn't it?" But Geoff was reluctant. "Oh, he is in a nasty temper. He would very likely say something to wound your feelings, and you have borne more than enough lately. Don't bother about him."