He talks on with Lady Etwynde in desultory fashion. He knows he need not exert himself to be entertaining here. She likes a good listener--one who can be interested in her ideas and follow them, and with Keith Athelstone, as with Lauraine, she lays her art jargon aside. Yet in his heart he longs for one sound of Lauraine's voice--for just five minutes by her side. They have not met since the scene in Lady Etwynde's garden, and to-night her greeting has been of the coldest description. But he dares not go over to her now, as he would have done a few days ago. He sits there, contenting himself with an occasional glance, and listening patiently, if a little wearily, to the beautiful æsthete's discussion. Then Lauraine looks across at him and smiles. His heart seems to warm beneath that sign of remembrance--his whole face changes. Lady Etwynde notices it, and grows troubled. "He is in love, and he does not conceal it--poor boy," she thinks, compassionately. "Ah, I always thought those fraternal arrangements were a great imposition. One or other is sure to ask or desire that 'little more' which just makes all the difference. Ah! it is worlds enough away from these two. Does she know, I wonder? I think not. She could not act that serenity and indifference. She is too transparent. Oh, I hope she does not suspect. It would be terrible indeed. She is so young and beautiful, but she is not happy. Any one can see that; and her husband is always running after that brazen woman over there. Dear me, how sad life is. Full of contradictions--of pain. Mr. Athelstone," she adds aloud, "I want to speak to that gentleman over there. He is a _savant_ of the most advanced school. Kindly give me your arm." Keith rises and obeys, and comes now within the radiance of the floating white draperies that have been before his eyes the whole night long. CHAPTER XI Lauraine is talking to an elderly man--a colonel in the Guards. She neither looks up, nor moves, but she is perfectly, painfully conscious that Keith is standing by her side. She knows that he has crossed the room, and left Lady Etwynde with her _savant_, and all the time she has not lifted an eyelid, or stirred from that listening attitude. Keith stands there patiently. He has the happy knack of looking always graceful, and to-night he looks handsomer than ever, despite the pallor of his face, the dark shadows under his eyes. The Colonel talks on, and Lauraine answers animatedly. Keith wonders if any memory is at work within her heart--if her light words and smiles are real or acted.