He made a sharp gesture.  “That’s just what you are not.  I say, Miss Moore, don’t read this book!  It won’t do you any good, and it’ll make you very angry.  You’ll call it cynical, insincere, cold-blooded.  It will hurt your feelings horribly.”

“I don’t think so,” said Juliet.  “You forget,—­I am no longer—­a marionette.  I have come to life.”

Again she held out her hand for the book.  He gave it to her reluctantly.

“Don’t read it!” he said.

She shook her head, still smiling.  “No, Mr. Green, I’m not going to let you censor my reading.  I will tell you what I think of it next time we meet.”

“Don’t!” he said again very earnestly.

But Juliet would not yield.  She stooped again over Columbus and fondled his ear.

Green stood looking down at her, his dark face somewhat grim, his eyes extremely bright.

“I believe he’s cross with us, Christopher.” murmured Juliet.  “Never mind, old thing!  We shall get over it if he doesn’t.  Being cross always hurts oneself the most.  We’re—­never cross, are we, Christopher?  We please ourselves and we please each other—­always.”

Columbus grunted appreciatively and leaned harder against her.  He liked to be included in the conversation.

Green suddenly bent and pulled the other ear.  “You’re a jolly lucky chap, Columbus,” he said.  “I’ll change places with you any day in the week.”

Columbus smiled at him indulgently, and edged his nose onto his mistress’s knee.  He knew his position was secure.

“Don’t you listen to him, Christopher!” said Juliet.  “He wouldn’t be in your place two minutes.  If I dared to thwart him in anything, he’d turn and rend me.”

“He wouldn’t,” said Green decidedly.  “Anyone else—­perhaps, but his mistress—­never.”

Columbus yawned.  The topic did not interest him.  But Juliet laughed again, and for a moment her eyes glanced upwards, meeting the man’s look.

“Is that a promise?” she asked lightly.

“My word of honour,” he said.

“How generous!” said Juliet.  “And how rash!”

Mrs. Fielding looked round from the window and spoke fretfully.  “The storm seems to have made it more oppressive than ever,” she complained.  “I believe it is coming up again.”

“I hope not,” said Green.

Juliet got up quietly and moved to join her—­a tall woman of gracious outlines with the poise of a princess.

“You know all about everything,” she said to him, in passing.  “Come and read the weather for us!”

He followed her.  They stood together at the open French window, looking out on to the stormy sunset.

“It isn’t coming back,” said Green, after a pause.

Mrs. Fielding gave him a brief, contemptuous glance.  Juliet regarded him more openly, a glint of mockery in her eyes.

“You are sure to be right,” she said.

He made her a bow.  “Many thanks, Miss Moore!  I think I am on this occasion at least.  We shall have a fine day for the Graydown races to-morrow.”