He stands staring stupidly at the ground before him.  What is the matter with him?  Only three months, three little months ago, and such a thought would have raised ecstasy within his heart, and now——­

How flat it all seems, how unprofitable!  Nothing seems alive within him save a desire for vengeance on this child who has dared to drag his name into the dust.

This child!

Again her face rises before him.  Pale, determined, scorning him!  He had read hatred in her glance, and behind that hatred—­bred of it, perhaps—­love for her cousin.

He flings his cigar into a bush near him, and goes back to the house, taking the path his wife had chosen.

CHAPTER XII.

HOW TITA, RUNNING FROM THE ENEMY, SUDDENLY FINDS HERSELF FACE TO FACE WITH ANOTHER FOE; AND HOW SHE FIGHTS A SECOND BATTLE, AND COMES OFF VICTORIOUS!

Tita, once out of the sight of Maurice, had run home very quickly.  She knew that she was crying, and despised herself for so doing, but could not check her tears.  She was not sure what they meant, grief or rage.  Perhaps a little of both.  All her guests were in the garden, so she would not return to the house that way, though it was much the nearest; but turning into a side path she made for a point in the shrubberies, from which one could get to the armoury door without being seen by anyone.

She is wrong in her calculations, however, for just as she steps into the shrubbery walk, she finds herself face to face with Tom Hescott.

"Tita! You have been crying!” says he suddenly, after a devouring glance at her small face, that indeed shows all the signs of woe.

“No, no!” cries Tita breathlessly.

She puts up her hands in protestation.  She has grown crimson with shame and vexation.

“You have,” says Hescott, almost savagely.  The knowledge that he is leaving to-morrow (they are all leaving except the elder Lady Rylton) has rendered him desperate, and made more difficult of concealment the mad passion he entertains for her.  “What has happened?” he asks, going closer to her and letting his cigar drop to the ground.  “Are you unhappy?  You,” breathing quickly, “have been unhappy for a long time!”

“And even so, am I the only person in the world who is unhappy?  Are you never unhappy?” demands Tita defiantly.

“God knows I am, always!" says Hescott.  “But you!  That you should be unhappy!”

“Never mind me,” says Tita petulantly.  “And I must say,” with a little flaming glance at him, “that it would have been in much better taste if you—­if you had pretended to see that I was not crying.”

Hescott does not hear, or takes no notice of this little bombshell.

“Has your husband been unkind to you?” asks he sharply, most unpardonably.

Tita looks at him for a second as if he had struck her, and then waves him aside imperiously.