Dare pleaded a gun headache, and hardly spoke.

His eyes constantly wandered to the other end of the table, where, far away on the opposite side, half hidden by ferns and flowers, he could catch a glimpse of Ruth.

After dinner he did not come into the drawing-room, but went off to the smoking-room, where he paced by himself up and down, up and down, writhing under the torment of a horrible suspense.
Outside the moon shone clear and high, making a long picturesque shadow of the great prosaic house upon the wide gravel drive.

Dare leaned against the window-sill and looked out.

"Would she give him up ?" he asked himself.