His political future? He knew well the influence which, in these days of universal publicity, a man's private affairs may have on his public career. And in truth his heart was in that career, and the thought of endangering it hurt him. Certainly it would recommend him to nobody that he should marry Madame d'Estrées' daughter. On the other hand, what favor did he want of anybody? save what work and "knowing more than the other fellows" might compel? The cynic in him was well aware that he had already what other men fought for--family, money, and position. Society must accept his wife; and Kitty, once mellowed by happiness and praise, might live, laugh, and rattle as she pleased. As to strangeness and caprice, the modern world delights in them; "the violent take it by force." There is, indeed, a dividing-line; but it was a love-marriage that should keep Kitty on the safe side of it. He stood lost in a very ecstasy of resolve, when suddenly there was a sharp movement outside, and a flash of white among the yew hedges bordering the formal garden on which his windows looked. The night outside was still and veiled, but of the flash of white he was certain--and of a step on the gravel. Something fell beside him, thrown from outside. He picked it up, and found a flower weighted by a stone, tied into a fold of ribbon. "Madcap!" he said to himself, his heart beating to suffocation. Then he stole out of his room, and down a small, winding staircase which led directly to the garden and a door beside the orangery. He had to unbolt the door, and as he did so a dog in one of the basement rooms began to bark. But there could be no flinching, though the whole thing was of an imprudence which pricked his conscience. To slip along the shadowed side of the orangery, to cross the space of clouded light beyond, and gain the darkness of the ilex avenue beyond was soon done. Then he heard a soft laugh, and a little figure fled before him. He followed and overtook. Kitty Bristol turned upon him. "Didn't I throw straight?" she said, triumphantly. "And they say girls can't throw." "But why did you throw at all?" he said, capturing her hand. "Because I wanted to talk to you. And I was restless and couldn't sleep. Why did you never come and talk to me this afternoon? And why"--she beat her foot angrily--"did you let me go and play billiards alone with Mr. Cliffe?" "Let you!" cried Ashe. "As if anybody could have prevented you!" "One sees, of course, that you detest Mr. Cliffe," said the whiteness beside him. "I didn't come here to talk about Geoffrey Cliffe. I _won't_ talk about him! Though, of course, you must know--" "That I flirted with him abominably all the afternoon? _C'est vrai--c'est ab-sol-ument vrai!_ And I shall always want to flirt with him, wherever I am--and whatever I may be doing." "Do as you please," said Ashe, dryly, "but I think you will get tired."