Noaks had darted to the looking-glass and was smoothing his hair with
a tremulous, enormous hand.

"Go!" said the Duke, pointing to the door. Noaks went, quickly. Echoes
of his boots fell from the upper stairs and met the ascending susurrus
of a silk skirt.

The lovers met. There was an interchange of ordinary greetings: from
the Duke, a comment on the weather; from Zuleika, a hope that he was
well again--they had been so sorry to lose him last night. Then came a
pause. The landlady's daughter was clearing away the breakfast-things.
Zuleika glanced comprehensively at the room, and the Duke gazed at the
hearthrug. The landlady's daughter clattered out with her freight.
They were alone.

"How pretty!" said Zuleika. She was looking at his star of the Garter,
which sparkled from a litter of books and papers on a small
side-table.

"Yes," he answered. "It is pretty, isn't it?"

"Awfully pretty!" she rejoined.

This dialogue led them to another hollow pause. The Duke's heart beat
violently within him. Why had he not asked her to take the star and
keep it as a gift? Too late now! Why could he not throw himself at her
feet? Here were two beings, lovers of each other, with none by. And
yet . . .