"I'm so sorry, Vittorio," she said hurriedly. "But you see I cannot possibly go with you to-night. A--a friend of mine is very ill and I must go to him at once. I'm sure you understand. I hate to drop you this way, but you'll take the taxi? Won't you? And go without me?" A quiver passed over the Marchese's face. He bowed rather stiffly. "Of course, Anne. You must do what is right. But it will be a great disappointment to us all." He hesitated. "Shall I see you again soon?" Compunction seized her. "Come to tea with me to-morrow," she said with renewed composure. "I wish I could explain all this to you now, but I simply haven't the time." She touched him lightly on the arm and then stepped into the car. A moment later she and Claire Petrovskey were whisked around the corner and into Park Avenue. The Italian stared after them with a strange expression. He settled with the taxi-driver, then turned to reënter the house. He would telephone immediately to Ellen and tell her to procure another couple for the night's festivities. A walk down the length of Fifth Avenue, a solitary tâble d'hôte at some obscure Italian restaurant were more to his mood. CHAPTER XI ANNE'S VIGIL As the car swerved from the curb, Anne sank against the cushions. Turning to the immobile figure at her side, she questioned anxiously. "Is Alexis--is Mr. Petrovskey very ill?" The shadowy form retained its frozen quiescence. "He is perhaps dying," said the light, harsh voice. "Oh!" Anne's cry was involuntary. Conscious of the flood of hatred beating against her, she steeled herself. When she spoke her voice was well under control. "Surely you can't mean that! Why, what is the matter?" The delicate profile beside her, momentarily illuminated by a street lamp, acquired the translucent hardness of carved, white jade. "He has pneumonia." Once more in shadow, the mask turned towards Anne. A pair of eyes gleamed from out of dark caverns. "It developed several days ago. He had had a bad cough for about two weeks, and of course had taken no care of it." The dull voice ceased. Beneath her fur cape, Anne clasped gloved hands convulsively together. "Oh, poor boy, and he never let me know!" she murmured contritely. She faced with shame a thrill of relief. So Alexis had not neglected her wilfully after all. "Where is he now? Is he--alone?" The answer came deliberately, from averted lips. "Yes, he is in his apartment in Gramercy Park. He is alone with the exception of a day and night nurse. He--he prefers it that way." She faltered for the first time, then continued with a resumption of hardness. "Women have always been superfluous to Alexis. I have heard all geniuses are the same."