changed to a mounting anger. "You will have to get over this now or
later," he asserted. She said surprisingly, "Felix will be home this
week." He stood with an arm half raised, his head turned, as he had been
arrested by her period.

"Well?" he demanded stupidly. Her tone had been beyond his
comprehension. "Felix," she went on, apparently at random, "is very
satisfactory." Something of her intent penetrated his stunned faculties.
He advanced toward her dark with rage. "And if he is," he replied, "it
will do him no good. It will do you no good, if you think--" he broke
off from an accession of emotion. "What damned thing are you thinking
of?"

"The Princess Amelia's stockings," she answered pertly.

"You'll never put them on her again, like any dirty chamber maid."

"Felix, the end of this week," she repeated.

"I'll kill him," Howat whispered; "if he lifts a hand I'll shoot him
through the head. This was forced on me; some one else, responsible, can
pay." Her chin was up, her expression mocking. "Ridiculous, like any
cloddish countryman." She walked deliberately away, seated herself in a
graceful eddy of panniered silk.

A cold torment succeeded his rage; he had the feeling of being
hopelessly trapped, stifling in his passion. He followed her. "Ludowika,
this is horrible, so soon. I am willing to think that I am to blame;
stupid; no experience. You will have to be patient with me. Naturally
everything, now--" he broke off and wandered to a window, holding aside