Monck drew back sharply. With a smile that was grimly cynical he veiled his soul. "I was a fool, of course, and I am quite aware that my foolishness is nothing to you. But at least you know now how little cause you have to hate me." She had turned from him and gone to the open window. She stood there bending slightly forward, as one who strains for a last glimpse of something that has passed from sight. Monck remained motionless, watching her. From another room near by there came the sound of Tommy's humming and the cheery pop of a withdrawn cork. Stella spoke at last, in a whisper, and as she spoke the strain went out of her attitude and she drooped against the wood-work of the window as if spent. "Yes; but I know--too late." The words reached him though he scarcely felt that they were intended to do so. He suffered them to go into silence; the time for speech was past. The seconds throbbed away between them. Stella did not move or speak again, and at last Monck turned from her. He picked up the broken fan, and with a curious reverence he laid it out of sight among some books on the table. Then he stood immovable as granite and waited. There came the sound of Tommy's footsteps, and in a moment the door was flung open. Tommy advanced with all a host's solicitude. "Oh, I say, I'm awfully sorry to have kept you waiting so long. That silly ass of a _khit_ had cleared off and left us nothing to drink. Stella, we shall miss all the fun if we don't hurry up. Come on, Monck, old chap, say when!" He stopped at the table, and Stella turned from the window and moved forward. Her face was pale, but she was smiling. "Captain Monck is coming with us, Tommy," she said. "What?" Tommy looked up sharply. "Really? I say, Monck, I'm pleased. It'll do you good." Monck was smiling also, faintly, grimly. "Don't mix any strong waters for me, Tommy!" he said. "And you had better not be too generous to yourself! Remember, you will have to dance with Lady Harriet!" Tommy grimaced above the glasses. "All right. Have some lime-juice! You will have to dance with her too. That's some consolation!" "I?" said Monck. He took the glass and handed it to Stella, then as she shook her head he put it to his own lips and drank as a man drinks to a memory. "No," he said then. "I am dancing only one dance to-night, and that will not be with Lady Harriet Mansfield." "Who then?" questioned Tommy. It was Stella who answered him, in her voice a note that sounded half-reckless, half-defiant. "It isn't given to every woman to dance at her own funeral," she said: "Captain Monck has kindly consented to assist at the orgy of mine." "Stella!" protested Tommy, flushing. "I hate to hear you talking like that!" Stella laughed a little, softly, as though at the vagaries of a child. "Poor Tommy!" she said. "What it is to be so young!" "I'd sooner be a babe in arms than a cynic," said Tommy bluntly. CHAPTER III THE TRIUMPH