Page 138 (1/1)

That kiss gave Lady St Craye furiously to think, as they say in France

Had it meant--? What had it meant? Was it the crown of her hopes, her dreaone before, she ht win him--had won him, even?

The sex-instinct said "No"

Then, if "No" were the answer to that question, the kiss had been mere brutality It had meant just: "You chose to follow me--to play the spy What the deuce do you want? Is it this? God knows you're welco It was not the first But the others--even the last of the

Lady St Craye, biting her lips in lonely dissection of herself and of hier dared to follow him, to watch him, to spy on him

In her jasmine-scented leisure Lady St Craye analysed herself, and him and Her Above all Her--as Betty To find out how it all seemed to her--that, presently, seemed to Lady St Craye the one possible, the one iiven a few days to the analysis of that kiss, had failed to reach certainty as to its elements, had writhed in her failure, and bitterly resented the mysteries constituent that falsified all her calculations, she dressed herself beautifully, and went to call on the constituent, Betty

Betty was at holes to theShe rose with a grace that Lady St Craye had not seen in her She was dressed in a plain gown, that hung froreen folds Her hair was down--And Betty had beautiful hair Lady St Craye's hair had never been long Betty's fell nearly to her knees

"Oh, was the door open?" she said "I didn't know, I've--I' my hair"

"It's lovely," said the other woenuine "What a pity you can't alear it like that!"

"It's long," said Betty disparagingly, "but the colour's horrid What Miss Voscoe calls Boy colour"

"Boy colour?"

"Oh, just nothing in particular Mousy"

"If you had golden hair, or black, Miss Dese over the rest of us"

"I don't think so," said Betty very simply; "you see, no one ever sees it down"