"Why don't you go, too, Marie?" Miss Chester said. "The drive would do you good. You haven't been out in the car since that day Mr.

Dakers took you on the river."

"Yes; why not come along, Marie Celeste?" Chris said.

"I don't think I care about it," Marie answered.

Later on Chris tried again to persuade her.

He had followed her into the dining-room, where she was arranging flowers for the dinner table.

"Why won't you come on Sunday?" he demanded.

"Because I should not find it very amusing. I don't play golf, you know."

Chris fidgeted round the room, jingling some loose coins in his pocket.

"I suppose you'd go if Feathers asked you," he said suddenly--so suddenly that the hot color flew to Marie's face.

"I don't know what you mean," she said steadily.

"I mean that from all accounts you were with him every day before I came home."

"Every day! When he was in Scotland with you for a month!"

"You split straws," he answered irritably. "You know quite well what I mean."

"He took me motoring two or three times. I was glad to go; I had not had a very exciting time."

"You could have had friends to stay with you."

"I asked Dorothy Webber, and she refused."

Chris colored a little.

"I should not imagine that she is your sort, anyway," he said offhandedly.

"She was my best friend at school."

Chris took up a book and threw it down again.

"Well, will you come on Sunday?"

"No, thank you."

He caught her hand as she pa.s.sed him, and his voice was hoa.r.s.e as he asked:

"Marie Celeste, what the devil have I done to make you hate me like this?"

He had not meant to say it. He had intended to maintain his dignity and indifference until it conquered her, but instead she had conquered him, and now there was a pa.s.sionate desire in his heart to see the old shy look of adoration in her eyes and set the blood fluttering in her pale cheeks.

She gave a little, nervous laugh.

"I don't hate you; don't be absurd, Chris. Let me go; I want to finish these flowers."

"You can go if you will promise to come with me on Sunday."

She looked up.

"Why are you so anxious for my company all at once?"

He frowned.

"It looks so--so rotten, our never being together. Feathers is always getting sly digs in at me about it, and it isn't as if there is any real reason; we have always been good friends, Marie Celeste, until lately."

So it was not that he wanted her. It was just that Feathers had commented on the fact that they were so seldom together, and she knew how Chris hated to be talked about.

She thought of Feathers with a little heartache. It seemed an eternity since she had seen him or felt the strong clasp of his hand, and quite suddenly she made up her mind.

"Very well, I will come."

Chris brightened immediately.

"Thank you, Marie Celeste. I shan't tell Feathers, it will be a pleasant surprise for him." There was a little sneer in his voice, but Marie took no notice, as she went on arranging the flowers with hands that were not quite steady.

She did not expect to enjoy herself by accompanying Chris. She hated Mrs. Heriot, and she knew she would feel out of everything and unwanted, but--and she knew this had been the determining factor--she would see Feathers.

She wore her prettiest frock on Sunday, and turned a deaf ear to Mrs. Chester's lamentations that it would be ruined.

"The roads are so dusty--wear something that can't be spoilt, my dear child."

"I'll take a cloak," Marie said.

She was conscious of a little feeling of nervousness as she drove away with Chris.

"I'm going to pick Feathers up at his rooms," he said. "He's got rooms in Albany Street, you know."

"Yes, he told me."

Her heart was beating fast as they drew up at the house, and she kept her eyes steadily before her as Chris left the car and rang the door bell violently.

It was opened by Feathers himself, ready to start and with his golf bag slung over his shoulder.

"Ten minutes late, you miserable blighter," he began, then stopped, and his face seemed to tighten as he looked at Marie. "How do you do, Mrs. Lawless?" He went forward and shook hands with her formally. "This is a pleasant surprise," he said quietly.

"Well, don't waste time--get in," Chris struck in bluntly. He took his seat again beside his wife and drove on.

Marie felt strained and nervous. She tried hard to think of something to say. She knew it would be the most natural thing in the world for her to turn and speak to Feathers, but she could not force herself to meet his eyes.