She stood almost stiffly in his embrace, neither yielding nor attempting
to avoid. But at the touch of his lips upon her neck she shivered. There
was something sensual in that touch that revolted her--in spite of
herself.

"Ralph," she said, and her voice quivered a little, "I think you must
say good-bye to me. I am tired to-night. If I don't rest, I shall never
be ready for to-morrow."

He made an inarticulate sound that in some fashion expressed what the
drawing of his lips had made her feel. "Sweetheart--to-morrow!" he
said, and kissed her again with a lingering persistence that to her
overwrought nerves had in it something that was almost unendurable. It
made her think of an epicurean tasting some favourite dish and smacking
his lips over it.

A hint of irritation sounded in her voice as she said, drawing slightly
away from him, "Yes, I want to rest for the few hours that are left.
Please say good night now, Ralph! Really I am tired."

He laughed softly, his cheek laid to hers. "Ah, Stella!" he said. "What
a queen you have been to-night! I have been watching you with the rest
of the world, and I shouldn't mind laying pretty heavy odds that there
isn't a single man among 'em that doesn't envy me."

Stella drew a deep breath as if she laboured against some oppression.
"It's nice to be envied, isn't it?" she said.

He kissed her again. "Ah! You're a prize!" he said. "It was just a