“Kitty—­one word!”

He caught her in his arm, and held her while he looked down upon her sparkling dress and half-reluctant face.  “Kitty, do be nice to that old fellow to-night!  It’s only for two nights.  Take him in the right way, and make a conquest of him—­for good.  He’s been very decent to me in our walk—­though you did say such extraordinary things to him this afternoon.  I believe he really wants to make amends.”

“I do hate his white eyelashes so,” said Kitty, slowly.

“What does it matter,” cried Ashe, angrily, “whether he were a blue-faced baboon!—­for two nights?  Just listen to him a little, Kitty—­that’s all he wants.  And—­don’t be offended!—­but hold your own small tongue—­just a little!”

Kitty pulled herself away.

“I believe I shall do something dreadful,” she said, quietly.

A sternness to which Ashe’s good-humored face was almost wholly strange showed itself in his expression.

“Why should you do anything dreadful, please?  Lord Parham is your guest, and my political chief.  Is there any woman in England who would not do her best to be civil to him under the circumstances?”

“I suppose not,” said Kitty, with deliberation.  “No, I don’t think there can be.”

“Kitty!”

For the first time Ashe was conscious of real exasperation.  What was to be done with a temperament and a disposition like this?

“Do you never think that you have it in your power to help me or to ruin me?” he said, with vehemence.

“Oh yes—­often.  I mean—­to help you—­in my own way.”

Ashe’s laugh was a sound of pure annoyance.

“But please understand, it would be infinitely better if you would help me, in my way—­in the natural, accepted way—­the way that everybody understands.”

“The way Lord Parham recommends?” Kitty looked at him quietly.  “Never mind, William.  I am trying to help you.”

Her eyes shone with the strangest glitter.  Ashe was conscious of another of those sudden stabs of anxiety about her which he had felt at intervals through the preceding year.  His face softened.

“Dear, don’t let’s talk nonsense!  Just look at me sometimes at dinner, and say to yourself, ’William asks me—­for his sake—­to be nice to Lord Parham.’”

He again drew her to him, but she repulsed him almost with violence.

“Why is he here?  Why have we people dining?  We ought to be alone—­in the dark!”

Her face had become a white mask.  Her breast rose and fell, as though she fought with sobs.

“Kitty—­what do you mean?” He recoiled in dismay.

“Harry!”—­she just breathed the word between her closed lips.

“My darling!” cried Ashe, “I saw Dr. Rotherham myself this afternoon.  He gave the most satisfactory account, and Margaret told me she had repeated everything to you.  The child will soon be himself again.”