Mrs. Summers stood looking at the back of her hand. “If I’d been in his place, I should have cut you off instead,” she said, savagely under her breath--“with a blunt knife, too!” CHAPTER XXI When Cecily returned, it was about six o’clock. She was tired, and after asking for Rose, and hearing that she was in her room, she decided to dress at once, and afterwards rest on the sofa in the drawing-room, till the arrival of her guests. As she walked into the room some time later, the surface of her mind was full of little preoccupations and interests. She had invited pleasant people for Rose’s farewell dinner, and she hoped the evening was going to be a success. She had already been into the dining-room to see and approve the table decoration, and she now looked critically about the drawing-room, altering the position now of a bowl of roses, now of one of the lights. It all looked very charming, she thought, as she arranged a cushion behind her head on the pale-colored empire sofa, and lay back watching the fire with wide, preoccupied eyes. Beneath the trivialities were stirring graver thoughts, deeper speculations. They were insistent, if scarcely defined, and when she heard behind her the sound of an opening door, and her husband entered, the sight of him brought them into sudden definite form. As she looked up, she was shocked by the strained, nervous expression of his face. He came forward with a sort of groping movement, regarding first the lighted room, and then his wife’s evening gown, with irritable surprise. “Is any one coming?” he began. “We have a dinner to-night, you know,” she answered, surprised, for earlier in the day he had discussed the subject. He uttered an impatient exclamation. “The house is always full of people,” he declared. “It’s sickening! Can’t you have a quiet evening now and then? Who’s coming?” Cecily glanced at him, and controlling herself with an effort, spoke gently. “We talked about all of them only this morning,” she said. “The Eversleighs, Lady Ashford, Colonel Ferguson, Miss Devereux, Dick Mayne----” “Oh--naturally!” he interrupted, with a sneer. The color rushed to her cheeks. There was a little pause. “Why do you say that?” she asked, looking at him steadily. “My reasons must be fairly obvious.” “They escape me,” returned Cecily. “Surely, Robert,” she added, after a breathless pause, “we need not continue the conversation you began the other evening?” “There is every need,” he declared. “The last time we discussed this subject, you thought my attitude towards it ‘very funny,’ I remember. I’m sorry I haven’t your sense of humor. Funny as you may consider it, I intend to talk about what you find so ridiculous--my honor. It’s time, I think, since you seem to have forgotten yours.” Cecily got up slowly from the sofa, and leaning against the mantelpiece, faced him with dangerously bright eyes.