Would she receive him with tears and reproaches?  Would she cry out that he was cold and cruel?  Would she torture himself and herself by trying to find out why he did not love her?  Or would she be sad, cold, and indifferent?

His relief was great when she raised a laughing, radiant face to his and held out her hand in greeting.

“Good-morning, Norman,” she said, in a pleasant voice.  “Now confess that I am a clever actress, and that I have given you a real fright.”

He looked at her in wonder.

“I do not understand you,” he returned.

“It is so easy to mislead a man,” she said, laughingly.

“I do not understand, Philippa,” he repeated.

“Did you really take all my pretty balcony scene in earnest last night?” she asked.

“I did indeed,” he replied; and again the clear musical laugh, seemed to astonish him.

“I could not have believed it, Norman,” she said.  “Did you really think I was in earnest?”

“Certainly I did.  Were you not?”

“No,” she answered.

“Then I thank Heaven for it,” he said, “for I have been very unhappy about you.  Why did you say so much if you did not mean it, Philippa?”

“Because you annoyed me by pleading the cause of the duke.  He had no right to ask you to do such a thing, and you were unwise to essay such a task.  I have punished you by mystifying you—­I shall next punish him.”

“Then you did not mean all that you said?” he interrogated, still wondering at this unexpected turn of events.

“I should have given you credit for more penetration, Norman,” she replied.  “I to mean such nonsense—­I to avow a preference for any man!  Can you have been so foolish as to think so?  It was only a charade, acted for your amusement.”

“Oh, Philippa,” he cried, “I am so pleased, dear!  And yet—­yet, do you know, I wish that you had not done it.  It has given me a shock.  I shall never be quite sure whether you are jesting or serious.  I shall never feel that I really understand you.”

“You will, Norman.  It did seem so ridiculous for you, my old playfellow, to sit lecturing me so gravely about matrimony.  You took it so entirely for granted that I did not care for the duke.”

“And do you care for him, Philippa?” he asked.

“Can you doubt it, after the description you gave of him, Norman?”

“You are mocking me again, Philippa,” he said.

“But you were very eloquent, Norman,” she persisted.  “I have never heard any one more so.  You painted his Grace of Hazlewood in such glowing colors that no one could help falling in love with him.”

“Did I?  Well, I do think highly of him, Philippa.  And so, after all, you really care for him?”

“I do not think I shall tell you, Norman.  You deserve to be kept in the dark.  Would you tell me if you found your ideal woman?”

“I would.  I would tell you at once,” he replied, eagerly.