At length, however, as I said, I had contrived an escape, and was finding my way towards Karine, when, before I had reached her, I saw her start, staring past me with a white, frozen look on her face that for the moment blotted out much of its innocent youthfulness and beauty. She was gazing in the direction of the door, with dark, dilated eyes, and lips tightly closed in a line of scarlet that faded to palest pink. It was as though into the midst of the gossip and laughter and brilliant light had crept a spectre which she alone could see. Some such look I had seen in the eyes of a dove which had been offered up as food for a constrictor. Involuntarily I turned and glanced behind me. No name had been announced, though I had heard the opening and closing of the door, and now, as I faced round in that direction, I saw that Sir Walter Tressidy and Carson Wildred had come in together. Evidently this was not Wildred's first entrance, for like Sir Walter, he had neither hat nor stick. He moved forward by his companion's side with the unmistakably-assured air of the friend of the house, and I instinctively understood that he had lunched with the Tressidys, and since that time had been closeted on some business of importance with his host. Unreasoningly, I hated him for his privileges. With more of reason, I hated him because I believed the look I had seen for a single instant on Karine Cunningham's face was connected with his presence. That look was gone now. When I removed my eyes from Wildred, and turned again to her, her delicate, spiritual profile only was visible. Her head was graciously inclined towards the monocled youth who stood nearest her. She appeared no longer to see Wildred or Sir Walter Tressidy. I was determined that the former should not approach her (as he seemed inclined to do) if I could prevent it. I hurried to her accordingly, and shut her away from the room, with a pair of broad shoulders, and with an air of monopolising her which I should not have dared at any other time to assume. But was I not her friend? Had I not the right to protect her, if I could, from all that I believed to be distasteful to her? Presently, the callow youths, whose claims I had hardly considered, seemed to melt away, and I was left alone with her. People were going, and it was getting late, no doubt, but I did not yet mean to follow their example. After all--despite my dismal presages--it did appear that I was to have her for at least a moment or two to myself. I had kept my word. I had outstayed them all--all but Carson Wildred. "Have you quite recovered from yesterday's accident?" I asked, glad to share even so insignificant a secret with her. "Yes, oh, yes!" She spoke hurriedly, and her eyes had moved to the distant group near the fireside--Lady Tressidy, Carson and Sir Walter. "You haven't reconsidered your promise that I should be your friend?"