After luncheon, Geoffrey was leaning over the stone balustrade of the terrace waiting for Vera. Beyond a slight restlessness and extra brilliancy of the eye she was better. She had proposed a ramble along the cliffs and Geoffrey had assented eagerly. His anxiety was fading away like the ashes of his cigarette. At first he had been inclined to imagine that Vera's indisposition had been a move on the part of the unseen foe. But he put this idea from him as illogical. The enemy was not in the habit of using the gloved hand like this. He struck down fiercely and remorselessly. "No," Geoffrey murmured aloud; "Vera could not have been spared!" A gentle hand was laid upon his arm. Marion stood beside him. They were alone at that angle of the terrace and unseen from the house. "You are right," said Marion. "Don't worry about that any more." Geoffrey nodded approvingly. He slipped his arm round Marion's waist and kissed her in a brotherly fashion. Marion inclined toward him with half-closed eyes and a brightened color. Her limbs trembled; the pressure of her lips was warm and sweet. "Dear little sister," Geoffrey murmured. "What should we do without you?" Marion drew herself away abruptly. She rested her clasped hands over the stone balcony so that Geoffrey should not see their unsteadiness; her flushed face was half averted. It was a taking, a perfect picture. "What would Vera say?" she asked. "As if Vera would mind! Don't we all love you the same? And how many times has Vera seen me kiss you? If there were no Vera, little sister, then you may be sure that I should have kissed you in a different way!" Marion laughed at the easy impertinence. That Geoffrey had no real love or passion for anybody but Vera she knew perfectly well. She laughed again, but there was nothing spontaneous in it; indeed, anybody but a youthful egotist in love could have detected a certain jarring note of pain. "Here is Vera," said Geoffrey. "Let us ask her." They put it to her merrily. They might have been in a world beyond all sorrow or suffering. The music of their fresh young voices floated in the air. Then Marion bent over the balustrade and watched the lovers out of sight. Her face grew hard; a veil of heavy years seemed to have fallen over it. "If he only knew!" she said; "if he only knew! Why are clever people often so foolish? And why do they commit follies with their eyes wide open? Well, it doesn't matter, for you will never know, dear Geoffrey, how passionately and devotedly I love you. And you never, never know when temptation and inclination and opportunity go together. And I don't believe that anybody could resist temptation if he or she were certain not to be found out!" "I am perfectly sure they wouldn't." Marion turned with a stifled cry on her lips. Ralph Ravenspur was behind her. The expression on his face was wooden and emotionless. "I hope you have not been listening to me," she said reproachfully.