Mostyn drew himself up, but the worst of it was, that in the presence of this girl, he could make such a poor show of dignity. He could not even restrain himself from that absurd habit of blushing. "I made a fool of myself that day, I know," he said heatedly, "but it isn't generous of you to recall it; it isn't as if you knew all the circumstances--I----" He broke off suddenly, staring fixedly at the window before him. Rada saw that her words had stung and wounded. She was not spiteful at heart, though despite herself her tongue would run away with her. She had no dislike for Mostyn; on the contrary, she had told herself that day upon the coach that he was quite a good-looking boy, and that she would have preferred his company to that of young Caldershot, who was, after all, nothing but an empty-headed fop, whose conversation was all about himself. Rada had quite decided in her own mind that Mostyn was to be her cavalier that day, and she had been more than a little piqued at his lack of attention, which perhaps accounted for the snubbing he had received. "Don't be cross," she began, a little conscience-stricken. "I didn't mean----" Suddenly she realised the fixity of his gaze upon the window. "What are you staring at?" she asked, turning her head and following the direction of his eyes. Mostyn sprang from his chair, and without answering her strode across to the window, throwing it open, and gazing out into the night. He had imagined, just as he was replying to Rada, that he had caught sight of a face, the face of a man, staring in at the window--a face flattened against the glass, appearing through it distorted, malignant, and hideous. He had been so occupied with his own sense of wrong that it had been a few moments before he had actually realised the face. The ivy and creepers grew thick about the window, and as he stared vacantly he had thought that what he saw was merely due to the peculiar form taken by an overhanging spray of ivy. But, as he looked, the face had taken shape; he had seen a pair of glistening eyes, a flattened nose and an ugly, grinning mouth. It was then that he sprang up and made his sudden dart to the window. But when he opened it and stepped out upon the soft grass there was no one to be seen. He looked up and down the road; he took a few steps in either direction, then told himself that he must have been deceived: it was the ivy, after all, which had caused the delusion. He stepped back into the drawing-room, closing the window after him and attempting to put up the shutters, which had evidently not been touched for years. "What was it?" asked Rada, who had risen and was standing by his side. He told her. "I thought I saw a face--the face of a man," he said. "What was he like?" Rada looked concerned, almost frightened.