Sabine, for her part, found the days not worth living. Nothing in life or nature stays at a standstill; if stagnation sets in, then death comes--and so it was that her emotions for Michael did not remain the same, but grew and augmented more and more as the certainty that they were parted for ever forced itself upon her brain. They had not been back in London a day when Mr. Parsons announced to her that at last all was going well. Mr. Arranstoun had put the matter in train and soon she would be free. And, shrewd American that he was, he wondered why she should get so pale. The news did not appear to be such a very great pleasure to her after all! Her greatest concern seemed to be that he should arrange that there should be no notice of anything in the papers. "I particularly do not wish Lord Fordyce ever to know that my name was Arranstoun," she said. "I will pay anything if it is necessary to stop reports--and if such things are possible to do in this country?" But Mr. Parsons could hold out no really encouraging hopes of this. No details would probably be known, but that Michael Arranstoun had married a Sabine Delburg and now divorced her would certainly be announced in the Scotch journals, where the Arranstouns and their Castle were of such interest to the public. "If only I had been called Mary Smith!" Sabine almost moaned. "If Lord Fordyce sees this he must realize that, although he knows me as Sabine Howard, I was probably Sabine Delburg." "I should think you had better inform his lordship yourself at once. There is no disgrace in the matter. Arranstoun is a very splendid name," Mr. Parsons ventured to remind her. But Sabine shut her firm mouth. Not until it became absolutely necessary would she do this thing.