Once again she had become a mystery to her lover; he pondered over her very much as in the days when they were newly acquainted.

Of one thing he felt but too well assured.

She did not love him as he desired to be loved.

Constant she might be, but it was the constancy of a woman unaffected with ardent emotion.

If she granted him her lips they had no fervour respondent to his own; she made a sport of it, forgot it as soon as possible.