"You had better go back to your room and finish dressing, Una; and remember, I would not have told you what I have, only that you disputed my word. I hope you will not run to Edith with it. It will only make matters worse. I dare say he will learn to love you in time." "I shall run to no one with it," Una answered, in a strange voice. She moved to the door as she spoke, and passed out. Sylvie laughed mockingly. "I have paid Eliot now for his insolence. I know he loves her to madness. I saw it in his eyes when she met him so coolly this evening. Well, this will put a stumbling-block between them that he will not easily pass." And humming an opera air with heartless indifference, she made some slight addition to her already elaborate toilet, and went down-stairs. Una's toilet, the light-blue surah silk with square neck and elbow-sleeves, was complete but for the handsome corsage bouquet Eliot had brought her an hour ago. She did not pin it on her breast; she took it in her hand and ran along the hall, then tapped softly at the door of the apartment that she knew had been designed for Miss Hayes's use. Ida opened it, dazzling Una's eyes with the glitter of her satin and jewels. She frowned slightly at the intruder. "I have brought you these flowers to wear," Una said, rapidly, thrusting them into Ida's white hand. Then she turned away and went along the hall with slow, lagging footsteps, down the broad, shallow staircase, and so to the drawing-room, her young face pale with emotion, and a strange, excited glitter in her dark eyes. CHAPTER XXXI. Eliot was sitting on a low _tête-à-tête_. He moved aside slightly to allow her room at his side. But Una did not seem to see her husband's involuntary movement. She went to the opposite side of the room and sat down by Edith, who, with her brown hair and brown eyes, looked very pretty in garnet velvet and cashmere daintily combined into a graceful dinner-dress. Maud was buried in a book on the other side of her, but she had taken time to honor the new arrivals by putting on her best black silk with a white lace fichu to relieve its somber tone. Vivacious Edith exclaimed instantly: "Oh, Una, the pretty flowers that Eliot brought you--you have forgotten to wear them. Shall I run and get them for you?" "Thank you--but no," as Edith rose. "I don't care for them. I--I have given them away." Eliot had heard distinctly the question and answer; but there was no time for comment. Ida Hayes sailed in--a bisque doll in Nile-green silk and velvet, with Eliot's roses pinned among the laces of her V-shaped corsage. "And to think that I went without cigars two days to buy Ida Hayes a corsage bouquet!" he said, ruefully, to himself. But the loss of the cigars was the least part of his mortification. He had fancied he was winning his way to his girl-bride's heart. This little incident showed him clearly his mistake. "She is not learning to love me. Perhaps she never will," he thought, gloomily.