When Sir Lucien reappeared she ran to him excitedly, her charming face
flushed and her eyes sparkling.
"Oh, Lucy," she cried, "how long will our things be? I'm keen to
smoke!"
His jaw hardened, and when he spoke it was with a drawl more marked
than usual.
"Mareno will be here almost immediately," he answered.
The tone constituted a rebuff, and Rita's coquetry deserted her,
leaving her mortified and piqued. She stared at Pyne, biting her lip.
"You don't like me tonight," she declared. "If I look ugly, it's your
fault; you told me to wear this horrid old costume!"
He laughed in a forced, unnatural way.
"You are quite well aware that you could never look otherwise than
maddeningly beautiful," he said harshly. "Do you want me to recall the
fact to you again that you are shortly to be Monte Irvin's wife--or
should you prefer me to remind you that you have declined to be mine?"
Turning slowly, he walked away, but:
"Oh, Lucy!" whispered Rita.
He paused, looking back.
"I know now why you didn't want me to come," she said. "I--I'm sorry."
The hard look left Sir Lucien's face immediately and was replaced by a
curious, indefinable expression, an expression which rarely appeared
there.
"You only know half the reason," he replied softly.
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