And now she was replying to Malcourt; and Hamil watched her and listened to her with newer interest, noting the poise, the subtle reserve under the gayest provocation of badinage—­the melody of her rare laughter, the unaffected sweetness of her voice, and its satisfying sincerity—­satisfying as the clear regard from her lifted eyes.

Small wonder men were attracted; Hamil could understand what drew them—­the instinctive recognition of a fibre finer and a metal purer than was often found under the surface of such loveliness.

And now, as he watched her, the merriment broke out again around her, and she laughed, lifting her face to his in all its youthfully bewildering beauty, and saw him standing near her for the first time.

Without apparent reason a dull colour rose to his face; and, as though answering fire with fire, her fainter signal in response tinted lip and cheek.

It was scarcely the signal agreed upon for their departure; and for a moment longer, amid the laughing tumult, she sat looking at him as though confused.  Malcourt bent forward saying something to her, but she rose while he was speaking, as though she had not heard him; and Hamil walked through the circle to where she stood.  A number of very young men looked around at him with hostile eyes; Malcourt’s brows lifted a trifle; then he shot an ironical glance at Shiela and, as the circle about her disintegrated, sauntered up, bland, debonair, to accept his conge.

His bow, a shade exaggerated, and the narrowed mockery of his eyes escaped her; and even what he said made no impression as she stood, brightly inattentive, looking across the little throng at Hamil.  And Malcourt’s smile became flickering and uncertain when she left the terrace with Hamil, moving very slowly side by side across the lawn.

“Such lots of pretty women,” commented Shiela.  “Have you been passably amused?”

“Passably,” he replied in a slightly sullen tone.

“Oh, only passably?  I rather hoped that unawakened heart of yours might be aroused to-day.”

“It has been.”

“Not Mrs. Ascott!” she exclaimed, halting.

“Not Mrs. Ascott.”

“Mrs. Tom O’Hara!  Is it?  Every man promptly goes to smash when Mrs. Tom looks sideways.”

“O Lord!” he said with a shrug.

“That is not nice of you, Mr. Hamil.  If it is not with her you have fallen in love there is a more civil way of denying it.”

“Did you take what I said seriously?” he asked—­“about falling in love?”

“Were you not serious?”

“I could be if you were,” he said in a tone which slightly startled her.  She looked up at him questioningly; he said: 

“I’ve had a stupid time without you.  The little I’ve seen of you has spoiled other women for me.  And I’ve just found it out.  Do you mind my saying so?”

“Are you not a little over-emphatic in your loyalty to me?  I like it, but not at the expense of others, please.”