"I should go," she said thoughtfully, "to the person to whom I had bound myself, and I should explain the change in my feelings and in the circumstances. I should beg to be released from my word." "And if they refused?" "I don't see how you could possibly break your word of honour," she decided reluctantly. "It is not done, is it?" He looked steadily down the gallery, through the darkened portion, to where the soft, overhead lights fell upon the two card tables. There was very little conversation. They could even hear the soft fall of the cards and Sylvia's musical laugh in the background. All the time Letitia watched him. The strength of his face seemed only intensified by his angry indecision. "You are right," he assented finally. "I must not." "Perhaps," she suggested, "you can find some way of keeping it, and yet keeping it without that secondary dishonour you spoke of. Now I must really go and see that my guests are behaving properly." She rose to her feet. Sylvia's laugh rang out again from the far corner of the gallery, where she and Grantham were seated, their heads very close together. Letitia watched them for a moment tolerantly. "I will recall my fiancé to his duty," she declared, "and you can go and talk nonsense to Sylvia." "Thank you," he answered, "I am afraid that I am not in the humour to talk nonsense with anybody." She turned her head slightly and looked at him. "Sylvia is such an admirer of yours," she said, "and she has such a delightful way of being light-hearted herself and affecting others in the same fashion. If I were a man--" "Yes?" "I should marry Sylvia." "And if I," he declared, with a sudden flash in his eyes, "possessed that ridiculous family tree of Lord Charles Grantham's--" "Well?" "I should marry you." She looked at him through half-closed eyes. There was a little smile on her lips which at first he thought insolent, but concerning which afterwards he permitted himself to speculate. He stopped short. "Lady Letitia," he pleaded, "there is a door there which leads into the hall. You don't expect manners of me, anyway, but could you accept my farewell and excuse me to the others? I have really a serious reason for wishing to leave--a reason connected with the note I received at dinner time." "Of course," she answered, "but you are sure that you are well? There is nothing that we can do for you?" He paused for a moment with his hand upon the fastening of the door. "There is nothing anybody can do for me, Lady Letitia," he said. "Good-by!" She stood for a moment, watching the door through which he had passed with a puzzled frown upon her face. Then she continued her progress down the room. Arrived at the bridge table, she stooped for a moment to look over her aunt's score. "Finished your flirtation, my dear?" the latter asked coolly. Letitia accepted the challenge.