I marked Antoinette de Mauban's graceful figure, and, though her face was in shadow, the fine outline of her head was revealed against the light behind.

I longed to cry softly, "Remember!" but I dared not--and happily, for a moment later a man came up and stood by her.

He tried to put his arm round her waist, but with a swift motion she sprang away and leant against the shutter, her profile towards me.

I made out who the newcomer was: it was young Rupert.

A low laugh from him made me sure, as he leant forward, stretching out his hand towards her.
"Gently, gently!" I murmured.