at the news.... My husband is here."

She still confronted him, hands behind her, with an audacity which
challenged--her whole being was always a delicate and perpetual
challenge. There are such women. Over her golden-brown head the late
summer sunlight fell, outlining her full, supple figure and bared arms
with a rose light.

"Well?" she asked.

"If only you _were_ as good as you are ornamental," he said, looking at
her impudently. "But I'm afraid you're not."

"What would happen to me if I were?"

"Why," he said with innocent enthusiasm, "you would have _your_ reward,
too, Mrs. Dysart."

"The sort of reward which I heard you bestow a few moments ago upon that
maid? I'm no longer the latter, so I suppose I'm not entitled to it, am
I?"

The smile still edged her pretty mouth; there was an instant when
matters looked dubious for her; but a door opened somewhere, and, still
smiling, she slipped by him and vanished into a neighbouring corridor.

Howker, the old butler, met him at the foot of the stairs.

"Tea is served on the Long Terrace, sir. Mr. Seagrave wishes to know
whether you would care to see the trout jumping on the Gray Water this