" CHAPTER XV. “I am afraid your broken dinner engagement will not be so easy to explain. Then he paused. For fifteen years!—so long as I can remember! All I wanted was a little love, a caress now and then. But shurely I'd know that vice," he added, turning his lantern towards the janizary. Winifred, you are deceived in me. Women are hypocrites to the last—true only to themselves. “Cheveney wouldn’t have anything to say about it, as it happens,” he remarked, a little grimly. “Not a bit of it,” he said; “it’s only a score in a game. She, however, had no idea of doing anything of the sort. Muttering something to himself, he appeared to be telling upon his fingers the advantages and disadvantages of some scheme he had in contemplation. “—and your aunt—” For a time he searched for the mot juste. Sure of foot, noiseless, he made the veranda and paused at the side of one of the screened windows.
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