“That is enough,” she said quietly.  “I did not think that you would tell me whether it was Mr. Carthew, but I was sure that if it were not he you would not hesitate to say so.  Thank you, that is all I wanted to see you for.  What you said yesterday brought that talk we had so vividly into my mind that I could not resist asking you.  It explained what seemed to me at the time to be strange; how it was that you, who are generally so cordial in your manner, were so cold to him when you first met him at our house.  I thought that there might be something more serious—­” and she looked him full in the face.

“Perhaps I am a prejudiced beggar,” he said, with an attempt to smile, and then added somewhat bitterly; “You see things since have not been calculated to make me specially generous in his case.”

She did not reply, and after a moment’s pause he said, “Well, as Lady Greendale seems to be busy, I will be going.”

“You will come to the ball tomorrow evening, won’t you?” she asked.

“I suppose I shall have to,” he said.  “If I win, though mind I feel sure that I shan’t, it will seem odd if I don’t come.  If I lose, it will look as if I sulked.”

“You must come,” she said, “and you must have a dance with me.  You have not been keeping your word, Major Mallett.  You said that you would always be the same to me, and you are not.  You have never once asked me to dance with you, and you are changed altogether.”

“I try to be—­I try hard, Bertha; but just at present it is beyond me.  I cannot stand by and see you going—­” and he stopped abruptly.

“Well, never mind, Bertha.  It will all come right in time, but at any rate I cannot stand it at present.  Goodbye.”

And without giving her time to reply, he hastily left the room.

Bertha stood silent for a minute or two, then quietly followed him out of the room.

The next day Ryde was astir early.  It was the Queen’s Cup day.  Eight yachts were entered:  three schooners—­the Rhodope, the Isobel, and the Mayflower; four cutters—­the Pearl, the Chrysalis, the Alacrity, and the Phantom; and the Osprey, which was the only yawl.  It was half-past eight, and all were under way under mainsail and jib.

The Solent was alive with yachts.  They were pouring out from Southampton water, they were coming up from Cowes, and some were making their way across from Portsmouth.  The day was a fine one for sailing.

“Have you got the same extra hands as last time?” Frank asked the skipper.

“All the same, sir.  They all know their work well, and of course if there is anything to be done aloft, our own men go up.  I don’t think any of them will beat us in smartness.”

As the time approached for the start, the racers began to gather in the neighbourhood of the starting line; and as the five-minutes gun fired, the topsail went up, and they began to sail backwards and forwards near it.