She looked at him half wonderingly, half wistfully, but he said no more. Could it be that he had no thought of ever asking her to be mistress and queen of this house of his? "You must have a party in the autumn," she said. "Lady Peters and I must be among your guests." "That will be an honor. I shall keep you to your word, Philippa." And then he rose to go. The dark, wistful eyes followed him. She drew a little nearer to him as he held out his hand to say good-night. "You are quite sure, Norman, that you are pleased to see me again?" she interrogated, gently. "Pleased! Why, Philippa, of course I am. What a strange question!" "Because," she said, "there seems to be a cloud--a shadow--between us that I do not remember to have existed before." "We are both older," he explained, "and the familiarity of childhood cannot exist when childhood ceases to be." "I would rather be a child forever than that you should change to me," she said, quickly. "I think," he returned, gravely, "that the only change in me is that I admire you more than I have ever done" And these words filled her with the keenest sense of rapture yet they were but commonplace enough, if she had only realized it. Chapter VIII. Lord Arleigh raised his hat from his brow and stood for a few minutes bareheaded in the starlight. He felt like a man who had been in the stifling atmosphere of a conservatory; warmth and perfume had dazed him. How beautiful Philippa was--how bewildering! What a nameless wondrous charm there was about her! No wonder that half London was at her feet, and that her smiles were eagerly sought. He was not the least in love with her; admiration, homage, liking, but not love--anything but that--filled him; yet he dreamed of her, thought of her, compared her face with others that he had seen--all simply because her beauty had dazed him. "I can believe now in the sirens of old," he said to himself; "they must have had just such dark, glowing eyes, such rich, sweet voices and beautiful faces. I should pity the man who hopelessly loved Philippa L'Estrange. And, if she ever loves any one, it will be easy for her to win; who could resist her?" How little he dreamed that the whole passionate love of her heart was given to himself--that to win from him one word of love, a single token of affection, she would have given all that she had in the world. On the day following he received a note; it said simply: "Dear Norman: Can you join me in a ride? I have a new horse which they tell me is too spirited. I shall not be afraid to try it if you are with me. "Yours, Philippa." He could not refuse--indeed, he never thought of refusing--why should he? The beautiful girl who asked this kindness from him was his old friend and playfellow. He hastened to Verdun House and found Philippa waiting for him. "I knew you would come," she said. "Lady Peters said you would be engaged. I thought differently."