“I believe a chemical analysis of me would yield the ordinary results,” returned Despencer, with unruffled composure. “I rather think that hydrogen is the principal ingredient.” Hammond gave a short laugh. “Despencer, I begin actually to respect you. It can be no easy thing to attain to such a height of perfect brutality as yours. You must have taken great pains with yourself.” “You may say what you like, Hammond, as long as you are not violent. I always draw the line at violence.” “Do you have to draw it often?” Even the trained and admirable temper of Despencer gave way under this taunt, and a red flush suffused his pale cheeks. “Hammond, do you mean to be insulting?” “Why, do you mind much? I should have thought the hydrogen would have stood it.” The words were drowned in a sudden crash of music and hand-clapping as the door behind them opened, and Captain Mauleverer came through with Belle Yorke on his arm. Despencer drew to one side with a bow as they approached. “Ah, captain, taking Lord Severn’s place, I see,” he remarked, with a sarcastic emphasis intended for Hammond’s ear, and passed back into the concert-room. Mauleverer stared after him as if he had been some noxious animal. “What has that damned cad--beg pardon, Miss Yorke--been doing here?” he demanded of Hammond. “Oh, only taking away some one’s character.” “Not mine, I hope,” said Belle, with a smile. “No, not in Hammond’s hearing, I’ll swear,” said the loyal captain. “It was too bad of you to go outside just as I was going to sing,” said Belle to the silent Hammond. “I shall expect an explanation.” “I have been waiting here to give it to you,” was the grave answer. “You seem quite serious about it. I am sure Mr. Despencer has been saying something against me.” Captain Mauleverer put in a word. “I can’t let you give your explanation now, because Miss Yorke has promised to sit out this next piece with me. You must wait your turn, old fellow.” “What does Miss Yorke say?” asked the other. “I say what they say at the libraries about the book of the season. You shall have me when the captain has done with me.” She turned merrily to the captain. “But you mustn’t skip, you know. I shall allow you fourteen minutes for perusal.” “I want to read you through,” said Hammond. And he went out. SCENE VIII CINDERELLA “How very sober Mr. Hammond seems to-night! I hope he isn’t going to be cross.” Though she spoke gayly enough, a vague sense of ill was stealing over her. She sat down on a low cane settee, over which flowering shrubs made a sort of canopy, and a sadness seemed to breathe in the heavy scent of tuberose and stephanotis. Captain Mauleverer placed himself beside her, and looked at her with a certain respectful pity as he answered: “That isn’t likely. I’m sure it wouldn’t be easy to be cross with you, Miss Yorke.” Belle detected something in his voice which increased her foreboding. “You look as grave as Mr. Hammond. Is anything the matter?”