It wasn’t so much women as Woman that engaged his mind. Lady Lescelles, graceful, very fashionably but quietly dressed, leaned back and watched her with shrewd kindly eyes. The theme was a masquerade. "Excuse me," he said, plunging his fork into a fowl, and transferring it to his plate. Yours?" The stranger hesitated. Immediately he was gone, she regretted that she had not followed. ‘It is all the fault of that lantern. But, bloodan'-'ouns! man, if ould Nick himself were to hit me a blow, I'd be afther givin' him another. ’ Too late he saw his error. The thought passed through his mind even as he started to cross the terrace at a jogtrot, moving to head her off. Then she cursed herself for his eyes went to the letter and came back to her face. The pistol, it was not loaded. ‘Is it such a terrible prospect? I will take care of you—as long as you obey me.
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