enough to care to inquire. And yet the sensation was not altogether
unpleasant, and, as at the guns that afternoon, a certain portion of
her consciousness remained in sympathy with whatever it was of
mysterious attraction he represented to her. In him she felt the
dominant, as a wild creature of the woods instinctively senses the
master and drops its eyes. Resentment did not leave her, but over it
spread a film of confusion that robbed it of its potency. In him, in
his mood, in his words, in his manner, was something that called out
in direct appeal the more primitive instincts hitherto dormant beneath
her sense of maidenhood, so that even at this vexed moment of
conscious opposition, her heart was ranging itself on his side.
Overpoweringly the feeling swept her that she was not acting in
accordance with her sense of fitness. She knew she should strike, but
was unable to give due force to the blow. In the confusion of such a
discovery, her eyelids fluttered and fell. And he saw, and,
understanding his power, dropped swiftly beside her on the broad
divan.

"You must pardon me, mademoiselle," he begun, his voice sinking to a
depth of rich music singularly caressing. "To you I may seem to have
small excuses, but when a man is vouchsafed a glimpse of heaven only
to be cast out the next instant into hell, he is not always particular
in the choice of words."

All the time his eyes sought hers, which avoided the challenge, and
the strong masculine charm of magnetism which he possessed in such
vital abundance overwhelmed her unaccustomed consciousness. Galen
Albret shifted uneasily, and shot a glance in their direction. The
stranger, perceiving this, lowered his voice in register and tone, and
went on with almost exaggerated earnestness.