"Oh," he said under his breath--"you _are_ capable of love." "I think not, Mr. Quarren; but I am very capable of hate." And, looking up, he saw it for an instant, clear in her eyes. Then it died out; she turned a trifle pale, walked to the window and stood leaning against it, one hand on the curtain. She did not seem to hear him when he came up behind her, and he touched her lightly on the arm: "I ask your forgiveness," he said. "It is granted, Mr. Quarren." "Have I ruined our friendship?" "I don't know what you have done," she said wearily. A few moments later the motor arrived; Quarren turned on the electric lights in the room; Strelsa walked across to the piano and seated herself. She was playing rag-time when the motor party entered; Quarren came forward and shook hands with Chrysos Lacy and Sir Charles; Langly Sprowl passed him with a short nod, saying "How are you, Quarren?"--and kept straight on to Strelsa. "Rotten luck," he said in his full, careless voice; "I'd meant to ride over and chance a gallop with you but Wycherly picked me up and started on one of his break-neck tears.... What have you been up to all day?" "Nothing--Mr. Quarren came." "I see--showed him about, I expect." "A--little." "Are you feeling fit, Strelsa?" "Perfectly.... Why?" "You look a bit streaky----" "Thank you!" "'Pon my word you do--a bit under the weather, you know----" "Woman's only friend and protector--a headache," she said, gaily rattling off more rag-time. "Where did you go, Langly?" "To look over some silly horses----" "They're fine nags!" remonstrated Molly--"and I was perfectly sure that Langly would buy half a dozen." "Not I," said that hatchet-faced young man; and into his sleek and restless features came a glimmer of shrewdness--the sly thrift that lurks in the faces of those who bargain much and wisely in petty wares. It must have been a momentary ancestral gleam from his rum-smuggling ancestors, for Langly Sprowl had never dealt in little things. Chrysos Lacy was saying: "It's adorable to see you again, Ricky. What _is_ this we hear about you and Lord Dankmere setting up shop?" "It's true," he laughed. "Come in and buy an old master, Chrysos, at bargain prices." "I shall insist on Jim buying several," said Molly. Her husband laughed derisively: "When I can buy a perfectly good Wright biplane for the same money? Come to earth, Molly!" "You'll come to earth if you go sky-skating around the clouds in that horrid little Stinger, Jim," she said. "Why couldn't _you_ take out the Stinger for a little exercise?"--turning to Sprowl. "I'm going to," said Sprowl in his full penetrating voice, not conscious that it required courage to risk a flight with the Stinger. Nobody had ever imputed any lack of that sort of courage to Langly Sprowl. He simply did not understand bodily fear. Strelsa glanced up at him from the piano: "It's rather risky, isn't it?"