Marius slowly closed the door, replaced the key in his pocket and flung off his domino. The wide hall was lit by one lamp that cast a pale glow and heavy shadows. Miss Chressham stood still a moment, gazing before her in an absorbed fashion. "Can I speak to you a while?" asked Marius on a rebellious breath. She forced herself to listen, to comprehend. "Of course," she thrust aside her thoughts. "It must be still early--maybe my lady is up. Let us go into the withdrawing-room." They discovered that it was not yet midnight, but the Countess Agatha was in bed, and Susannah's woman in charge. Miss Chressham ordered candles beyond the few left burning, and wine and cakes. "I tasted nothing at the mask," she said, smiling to cover her distraction, "and I vow I am quite hungry." Marius, struggling with some deep and tumultuous feeling, heeded nothing, but paced to and fro the gay and beautiful chamber until the servant had left them. The window stood open on the mute city and winking stars, a beau-pot of white roses on the work-table gave forth a lingering and exquisite perfume; Miss Chressham, near as pale as they, and drooping, as if with fatigue, had seated herself on a low brocade settee; her rich and glittering hair rolled in full curls over her dark domino, rounded throat and turquoise gown; beside her lay her mask and her fan. "What did you wish to say, Marius?" she asked. He poured her out a glass of the delicate white wine; she thanked him with a smile and drank it. There was still that absent look in her deep eyes that showed her thoughts were not at all absorbed with Marius; but he did not notice it, being too completely engrossed in his own passions. "You think that I have behaved unworthily," he said, moving towards the window. Susannah roused herself with a half sigh; it was like Marius to take everything heavily. She looked at him kindly; he leant against the window frame and gazed out at the night; a persistent breeze ruffled the pomaded curls on his forehead and the lace at his throat. "I had no right to speak to you, of anything," she answered. "Only Rose mentioned it and I ventured. Marius, the Countess is not to be trusted." He answered in a muffled voice. "Do you think Rose has been impeccable?" Had he had her in view he could not have failed to mark the swift expression of anguish that passed over her face; but her settee had its back to the window, and though he had turned his head towards the room he could see only her bent neck and shining curls. "My lord made this mad marriage for your sake," she said. "At the time you did not consider it strange or ignoble that he, as everyone, should marry money; 'twas only on discovering who the lady was----" Marius interrupted. "Then I cared for her no more, that was dead on the instant;" he spoke vehemently, "From then onwards the whole thing was ugly, sordid. I think we behaved all of us in a miserable fashion, I, and she and Rose."