Sir Roger smiled gently.

"Surprised?" he asked.

Charlie ignored the question.

"And you aren't going to hurry?" he inquired.

"Why should we?"

Charlie sat silent. It was tolerably plain that, unless the few days en route were very few indeed, John Ashforth and Mary Travers were in a fair way to be prosperously and peacefully married before Dora Bellairs set foot in England. And if he stayed with the Bellairs', before he did, either! Charlie lit a cigarette and sat puffing and thinking.

"Dashed nice girl, Dora Bellairs," observed Sir Roger.

"Think so?"

"I do. She's the only girl I ever saw that Laing was smitten with."

"Laing!" said Charlie.

"Well, what's the matter? He's an uncommon good chap, Laing--one of the best chaps I know--and he's got lots of coin. I don't expect she'd sneeze at Laing."

It is, no doubt, taking a very serious responsibility to upset an arrangement arrived at deliberately and carried almost to a conclusion.

A man should be very sure that he can make a woman happy--happier than any other man could-before he asks her to face the turmoil and the scandal of breaking off her marriage only a week before its celebration. Sure as he may be of his own affection, he must be equally sure of hers, equally sure that their mutual love is deep and permanent. He must consider his claims to demand such a sacrifice. What remorse will be his if, afterwards, he discovers that what he did was not, in truth, for her real happiness! He must be on his guard against mere selfishness or mere vanity masquerading in the garb of a genuine pa.s.sion.

As these thoughts occurred to Charlie Ellerton he felt that he was at a crisis of his life. He also felt glad that he had still a quiet week at Cannes in which to revolve these considerations in his mind. Above all, he must do nothing hastily.

Dora came out, a book in her hand. Her soft white frock fluttered in the breeze, and she pushed back a loose lock of dark hair that caressed her check.

"A dashed nice girl, upon my honor," said Sir Roger Deane.

"Oh, very."

"I say, old chap, I suppose you're in no hurry. You'll put in a few days in Paris? We might have a day out, mightn't we?"

"I don't know yet," said Charlie, and, when Deane left him, he sat on in solitude.

Was it possible that in the s.p.a.ce of a week--? No, it was impossible.

And yet, with a girl like that----.

"I did the right thing in waiting to go with her, anyhow," said Charlie, comforting himself.

CHAPTER V

A SECOND EDITION

"Don't you think it's an interesting sort of t.i.tle?" inquired Lady Deane of Mr. Laing.

Laing was always a little uneasy in her presence. He felt not only that she was a.n.a.lyzing him, but that the results of the a.n.a.lysis seemed to her to be a very small residuum, of solid matter. Besides, he had been told that she had described him as a "commonplace young man," a thing n.o.body could be expected to like.

"Capital!" he answered, nervously fingering his eye gla.s.s. "The Transformation of Giles Brockleton! Capital!"

"I think it will do," said Lady Deane complacently.

"Er--what was he transformed into, Lady Deane?"

"A man," replied the lady emphatically.

"Of course. I see," murmured Laing apologetically, stifling a desire to ask what Giles had been before.

A moment later the author enlightened him.

"Yes," said she, "into a man, from a useless, mischievous, contemptible idler, a parasite, Mr. Laing, a creature to whom----"

"What did it, Lady Deane?" interrupted Laing hastily. He felt somehow as if he were being catalogued.

"Just a woman's influence."

Laing's face displayed relief; he felt that he was in his depth again.

"Oh, got married, you mean? Well, of course, he'd have to pull up a bit, wouldn't he? Hang it, I think it's a fellow's duty.

"You don't quite understand me," observed Lady Deane coldly. "He did not marry the woman."

"What, did she give him the--I mean, wouldn't she have him, Lady Deane?"

"She would have married him; but beside her he saw himself in his true colors. Knowing what he was, how could he dare? That was his punishment, and punishment brought transformation."

As Lady Deane sketched her idea, her eyes kindled and her tone became animated. Laing admired both her and her idea, and he expressed his feeling's by saying:

"Remarkable sort of chap, Lady Deane. I shall read it all right, you know."

"I think you ought," said she, rising, and leaving him to wonder whether she had "meant anything."

He gave himself a little shake, as though to escape from the atmosphere of seriousness which she had diffused about him, and looked round. A little way off he saw Dora Bellairs and Charlie Ellerton sitting side by side. His brow clouded. Before Charlie came it had been his privilege to be Miss Bellairs's cavalier, and although he never hoped, nor, to tell the truth, desired more than a temporary favor in her eyes, he did not quite like being ousted.

"Pretty good for a fellow who's just had the bag!" he remarked scornfully, referring to Roger Deane's unauthorized revelation.

It was the day before the exodus to Paris. Dora's period of weary waiting had worn itself away, and she was acknowledging to Charlie that the last two or three days had pa.s.sed quicker than she had ever thought they could.

"The first two days I was wretched, the next two gloomy, but these last almost peaceful. In spite of--you know what--I think you've done me good on the whole."

"Don't mention it," said Charlie, flinging his arm over the back of the seat and looking at his companion.

"And now--in the end," pursued Dora, "I'm actually a little sorry to leave all this; it's so beautiful," and she waved her parasol vaguely at the hills and the islands, while with the other hand she took off her hat and allowed the breeze to blow through her hair.

"It is jolly, isn't it?" she asked.