The coming into his life of the woman who called herself Vita Vladimir was an incident in his progress of far greater significance that even he had dreamed. Whither it inclined his footsteps he knew not. All he knew was that, almost in a moment, she had become definitely linked up with his future through a bond, the meaning of which even he had no full understanding of. All he knew was that she had some great bearing upon the ultimate, and that it was his desire to follow blindly the track she had opened up before him. Nor had he any delusion as to his desire. There was not the smallest doubt but that her attraction had influenced his decision. He had listened to her words with a brain inspired by the warmth of the manhood within him, which her extraordinary beauty had stirred as it had never been stirred before. It was in answer to this feeling that he left Yorkshire at the earliest opportunity, and hastened back to town. He merely gave himself time to change and hold a brief consultation with his secretary. Then he set out in search of the rather obscure little flat in Kensington. His mind was perfectly clear as to the object of this visit. Just as he perfectly understood that even without that object it would have been his desire to make it. He wished to give this woman an answer to her request. He wished to fathom the manner by which she had learned of his promotion. And, apart from these things, he desired ardently to see her again. The recollection of that moonlit figure was a sharp negative on the photographic plates of memory, and he was anxious to study the original in the full light of day. Her undoubted beauty, and the romance of their first meeting, had left behind them an irresistible attraction; nor had he any desire to resist it. His position in the world as the only son and partner of the greatest among the ship-owners of Britain, his political career, and his position as under-secretary in the Foreign Office of the late Ministry, had brought him into contact with the social world of London. But, hitherto, women had had small enough place in his life. The hunting-field and the coverts, with golf and rowing, had entirely claimed his leisure, which would have been considered something very like wasted had it been spent in Society's drawing-rooms. He was a big, strong, outdoor man, and possessed a great deal of that curious diffidence which is more apt to attack men of his bulk than those of lesser stature.