The pallor of her face was gone now--the warmth of the fire burned her cheeks.

Her voice became softer.
"Sit down and talk to me," she murmured.

"Do you remember the old days, when you were a very timid young secretary of Sir George Nomsom, and I was a maid-of-honour at the Viennese Court?
Dear me, how you have changed!" "Time," he said, "will not stand still for all of us.

Yet my memory tells me how possible it would be--for indeed those days seem but as yesterday." He looked up at her with a sudden jealousy.

His tone shook with passion.
No one would have recognised Brott now.