Harriet did not answer, except by a faint shrug.  Her heart was sick with fright, but there was no reason why he should be informed that she had definitely broken with Ward.  But he had never come so near a threat before.

“Of course I am entirely at your mercy,” she said, simply.  Blondin watched her for a full moment of silence before he said suddenly: 

“All I ask you to do is assume, for the time being, that you and I met as strangers a few weeks ago!”

“Oh, Roy,” the girl exclaimed, “as if I were likely to do anything else!”

She despised herself for the sense of relief that flooded her heart.

“Look here then,” he said, after a moment of thought.  “I’ll make a bargain with you.  If you will consent not to make any allusion to--well, to ten years ago, I’ll do the same.  I’ll give you my solemn promise on it.  Say what you please about me now.  You’re under no bond to protect me.  I can hold my own.  But the past is dead.  Neither you nor I will speak of it without agreeing to do so.  How about it?”

She hesitated, the black lashes dropped, her restless hands twisting and torturing her handkerchief.  It protected her, she thought, while leaving her free to oppose him.

“I’ll agree,” she said, finally.

“Promise?”

“Oh, I promise!” She bit her lip, and frowned, as if she would add something more.  But no words came, only her troubled eyes met his fully and splendidly for a second.

Then with the brief, familiar nod which Richard Carter saw from his upstairs window, she turned, and without another word went into the house.

The morning dragged.  It was dry and hot, with promise of a storm later.  The men piled into the car, and went off for their golf.  It was ten o’clock before Nina and Amy came chattering downstairs; Royal was in the music room then, evoking a tangle of dim chords from the piano, smoking endless cigarettes.  Presently Ward and his friend thundered down to join the girls at breakfast; a maid circled the table with toast and covered dishes.

Madame Carter’s breakfast had been sent upstairs, and Mrs. Tabor had joined her, for when the old lady sent a message to Harriet, the two women were together, in elaborate negligee, and a litter of Sunday papers was scattered about the beautiful bedroom.  Upon Harriet’s entrance Mrs. Tabor gracefully rose to go, but she paused for a pleasant good-morning.

Alone with her determined old enemy, Harriet assumed her usual air of respectful readiness.  Madame Carter had sent for her?

“Yes,” said the old lady, looking aimlessly about her before gathering her garments together, and sinking into a chair.  “I wanted you to know that the young people propose to drive to Easthampton, at about two o’clock—­my granddaughter has been here, teasing Granny for the plan, and I have consented.  They will dine there and be back at about—­well, after dinner.”