take a life like Armine's into her soiled hands, even if she could make
him happy for a time, being a mistress of deception?

"Good-bye."

He just touched her hand.

"Good-bye. I am grateful. You know why."

Again she sent him that cordial smile. He left her standing up by the
hearth. The glow from the flames played over her rose-coloured gown. Her
beautiful head was turned towards the door to watch him go. In one hand
she held her cigarette. Its tiny wreath of smoke curled lightly about
her, mounting up in the warm, bright room. Her figure, the shape of her
head, her eyes--they looked really lovely. She was still the "Bella
Donna" men had talked about so long. But as he went out, he saw the tiny
wrinkles near her eyes, the slight hardness about her cheekbones, the
cynical droop at the corners of her mouth.

Armine did not see them. He could not make Armine see them. Armine saw
only the beauties she possessed. His concentration on them made for
blindness.

And yet even he had his ugliness. For now Isaacson believed in the
liaison between him and Mrs. Chepstow.

Only eight days later, after Mrs. Chepstow and Nigel had sailed for
Alexandria, did he learn that they were married.