"Say no more," she whispered. "I am ashamed of myself." Geoffrey kissed the quivering red lips passionately. "Spoken like my own, Vera," he said. "Now I will give you my word of honor----" "No, no. It is not necessary, Geoff. I was foolish. I might have known better. Not another thought will I give to Mrs. Mona May." Vera spoke in all sincerity. But our thoughts are often our masters and they were so in this case. Mona May was a name graven on Vera's mind, and the time was coming when with fervent gratitude she blessed the hour when she had found that letter. CHAPTER XX A FASCINATING WOMAN Mrs. Jessop's simple parlor had been transformed beyond recognition. The fine Chippendale furniture had been brought forward; the gaudy settees and sofas had been covered with fine, Eastern silks and tapestries. A pair of old Dresden candlesticks stood on the table, and under pink shades the candles cast a glamor of subdued light upon damask and silver and china. As Geoffrey was ushered in Mrs. May came forward. She was dressed entirely in black, her wonderfully fine arms and shoulders gleamed dazzling almost as the diamonds that were as frosty stars in the glorious night of her hair. One great red bloom of some flower unknown to Geoffrey was in her breast. As to the rest, the flowers were all scarlet. The effect was slightly dazzling. Mrs. May came forward with a smile. "So you have managed to elude the Philistines," she said. "Ah, I guessed that you would say nothing to your friends about our little dinner." There was an eager note in the words that conveyed a half question. Geoffrey smiled. "May I venture to suggest that the knowledge is not displeasing to you?" he said. "Well, I admit it. In the circumstances to explain would have been a bore. Your people cannot call on me and, being old-fashioned, they might not care for you to come here alone. Therefore, being a man of the world, you told them nothing about it." Geoffrey smiled, as he took the proffered cigarette. Had he not been warned against this woman by Ralph, her subtle flattery would have put him off his guard. It is always so sweet and soothing for a youngster to be taken for a man of the world. "You have guessed it all," he said. "My grandfather is a grand seigneur. He has no toleration for anything that is not _en règle_. What an exquisite cigarette!" Mrs. May nodded. They were excellent cigarettes, as also was the liqueur she insisted upon pouring out for Geoffrey with her own hands. He had never tasted anything like it before. And the dinner when it came was a perfect little poem in its way. Not a flask of wine on the table that had not a history. Long before the meal was over Geoffrey found himself forgetting his caution. Not that Geoffrey had anything to be afraid of. He knew that in some way this woman was connected with the tragedy of his race; for all that he knew to the contrary, she might be the spirit directing the tragedies.