Against his judgment, against his better reason, Keith Athelstone submits to her caprices and permits her to draw him to her presence. He is unfortunately in that state of mind in which a man is easily influenced by a woman if she is sympathetic, friendly, and appears interested in him. At present nothing seems of much consequence or account. The fierce suffering of the last two years has been lulled into a sort of quiescence. The good resolutions formed during that period of languor and convalescence have taken just sufficient root to strengthen him as far as Lauraine is concerned, and with that self-sacrifice they end. Life looks very monotonous, very dreary at present, and there is just a little fillip given to its monotony by Lady Jean. It is not that he likes her--it is not that he respects her, but he drifts into a sort of intimacy before he really knows it, and she is always at hand to sustain her influence. And it so happens that all this comes to the ears of Lauraine, filtered through the letters of mutual friends, put in as spice to various gossip detailed to her from Paris. At first she cannot believe it. It seems too horrible; but unfortunately a letter comes from Lady Etwynde, radiant in the flush and glory of her matronly honours, and revelling in Paris delights with her handsome husband; and that letter mentions casually the same thing. "Keith Athelstone has been driving in the Bois with Lady Jean;" "I have met Keith, and asked him to dinner, but he excused himself on the plea of a previous engagement with Lady Jean," etc., etc. Lady Etwynde tells her this, thinking it may really keep her from brooding over the idea that she has ruined her young lover's life; but had she known the torture it would have inflicted, she would have been silent on the subject. Lady Etwynde's idea of Keith Athelstone has always been that he is selfish and inconsiderate, and that Lauraine is quite thrown away upon him; she feels convinced now of her own sagacity when she sees how foolish is his conduct. She herself takes no notice of Lady Jean, and when Keith excuses himself to her on the plea before mentioned, she feels disgusted and annoyed, and tells her husband she will have nothing more to say to the young man. She would have been civil to him for Lauraine's sake, but if he prefers Lady Jean, why to Lady Jean let him go. "I knew he would never be constant," she says complainingly. "Really, men are too horrible." "With one exception," smiles Colonel Carlisle, looking proudly at the bright, petulant face, that seems to have regained all its old sparkling witchery and youthfulness with the "old" happiness. "Ah, Cyril, there is no one like you!" she answers.