If only that strange turn of fate had not brought Lord Fordyce into her life, what glorious pleasure she would now take in trying her uttermost to fascinate and attract Michael--not that she desired him for herself!--only to punish him for all the past! But she was not free.

She had given her word to Henry.

The humiliation of feeling that Michael was making no protest, and would apparently from this fact agree willingly to divorce her, stung her pride and made her want to make him suffer and regret in some way.

If she could believe that it was paining him, she would be glad--and if it appeared possible to keep up the pretence of unrecognition for longer than to-morrow, she would certainly do so; it was a frantic excitement in any case, and she adored difficult games.
Then as she put the letter back in her despatch-box, her hand touched a large blue enamel locket, and with a shiver she hastily shut down the lid, and as one fleeing from a ghost she ran back to bed.
Michael meanwhile was pacing his room in deep and agitated thought.
How supremely attractive she was! And to have to give her up to Henry; it was too frightfully cruel.

But he had absolutely no right to stand in either of their lights.