himself with persistent if unchivalrous regularity.

His presence at the Gala had been a surprise to everyone, for all
thought him still away, fishing in Scotland or shooting in Yorkshire,
anywhere save close to the apron strings of his doting wife. He
himself seemed conscious of the fact that he had not been expected at
this end-of-summer fete, for as he strolled forward to meet his wife
and Juliette Marny, and acknowledge with a bow here and a nod
there the many greetings from subordinates and friends, there was
quite an apologetic air about his good-looking face, and an obvious
shyness in his smile.

But Marguerite gave a happy little laugh when she saw him coming
towards her.

"Oh, Sir Percy!" she said gaily, "and pray have you seen the show? I
vow 'tis the maddest, merriest throng I've seen for many a day. Nay!
but for the sighs and shudders of my poor little Juliette, I should be
enjoying one of the liveliest days of my life."

She patted Juliette's arm affectionately.

"Do not shame me before Sir Percy," murmured the young girl,
casting shy glances at the elegant cavalier before her, vainly trying to
find in the indolent, foppish personality of this society butterfly, some
trace of the daring man of action, the bold adventurer who had
snatched her and her lover from out the very tumbril that bore them
both to death.

"I know I ought to be gay," she continued with an attempt at a smile,