a fight.

My vanity was wounded, but I felt more sorry for her than for myself,
and when she spoke again I listened eagerly, hoping she would say
something which would soften what had gone before. But she did not
make it easier for either of us.

"If I persuade my brother to apologize for what he said of your
regiment," she continued, "will you accept his apology?" Her tone was
one partly of interrogation, partly of command. "I do not think he is
likely to do so," she added, "but if you will let that suffice, I
shall see him at once, and ask him."

"You need not do that!" I replied, quickly. "As I have said, it is not
my affair. It concerns my--a great many people. I am sorry, but the
meeting must take place."

For the first time Miss Fiske smiled, but it was the same smile of
amusement with which she had regarded us when she first saw us in the
plaza.

"I quite understand," she said, still smiling. "You need not assure me
that it concerns a great many people." She turned away as though the
interview was at an end, and then halted. She had stepped into the
circle of the moonlight so that her beauty shone full upon me.

"I know that it concerns a great many people," she cried. "I know that
it is all a part of the plot against my father!"

I gave a gasp of consternation which she misconstrued, for she