As he paced up and down his luxurious study, thoughtfully smoking a cigar, his past life rose before him, with all its idleness and wasted years.  He knew that with most women he had only to throw down the glove for it to be snatched up eagerly; women had loved him, petted and spoilt him ever since he could remember.  But here was one who thought of him as nothing but a means to save her people—­or, rather, his people—–­from distress.  It said much for Lady Constance’s powers of reserve that she had impressed him thus, and had she known it, nothing could have helped her cause more.

Throwing himself into a chair, the young man reviewed again the incidents of their ride.  How beautiful she had looked; how pointedly and yet gently she had reproved him for his long absences from his estates and the people who loved him.  Well, it should come to an end now, and there and then he formed a resolve to return to town directly after the race, and go through his affairs with Jasper.  His friend would help him to lead a worthier and more useful life, he thought—­if any one could do so.

When he went down to dinner that night few would have noticed any difference in his calm face and demeanour; none, indeed, save Lady Constance herself, who, with the subtlety which seems inbred in even the best of her sex, devoted her attention almost exclusively to Mr. Jasper Vermont.  It was he who was allowed to sit next her at dinner; it was to him she turned when the race, with which all present were concerned, was the subject under discussion.

Adrien noted all this, and his heart grew heavy within him.  But he did not grudge Jasper her favour—­as yet; he blamed himself too deeply for the neglect of his past opportunities.

Jasper skilfully turned the conversation to Lady Merivale’s ball, which he described in detail to Lady Constance; adding many little realistic touches concerning the fair hostess and Adrien, till he had convinced her—­as he thought—­that there was a great deal more between them than was really the case.  For Vermont, as had been said before, was “no fool”; and he realised only too well in what direction events were tending with Lady Constance and her cousin.

But she showed no signs either of understanding or misunderstanding his allusions to Adrien, and began to discuss a ball which Miss Penelope was trying to arrange.

“Mr. Shelton, I am counting on you to help us,” she said, turning to the gentleman on her other side.  “Auntie has been besieging uncle for the last two months; and has, I think, carried the citadel.”

“What is the motive of the attack?” inquired Mortimer Shelton.

“Aunt Penelope wants a fancy dress dance in the ball-room in the east wing,” she returned gaily, adding, as she looked across at her cousin, who was listening attentively:  “Adrien, if you would add your word, we should get it.  Won’t you do so?”