He sent her courtly messages, and he pressed Rand's hand somewhat too closely, then with his most admirable military air and frankest smile, thrust his arm through Gaudylock's and marched away.

Rand closed the door, put down the candle that he held, and turned into the drawing-room.
Before the dying fire he found Jacqueline in her white gown, the amethysts about her throat, and her scarf of silver gauze fallen from her hand upon the floor.

In her young face and form there should have been no hint, no fleeting breath of tragedy, but to-night there was that hint and that breath.

The fire over which she bent and brooded seemed to leave her cold.

The room was no longer brightly lighted, and she appeared mournfully a part of the hovering shadows.