Sometimes he gave himself a half-holiday, and joined Emily and Susan in their driving or motoring.  On almost every evening that he did not dine at home he was downstairs in time for a little chat with Susan over the library fire.  They were never alone very long, but they had a dozen brief encounters every day, exchanged a dozen quick, significant glances across the breakfast table, or over the book that he was reading aloud.

Susan lived in a dazed, wide-eyed state of reasonless excitement and perilous delight.  It was all so meaningless, she assured her pretty vision in the mirror, as she arranged her bright hair,—­the man was married, and most happily married; he was older than she; he was a man of honor!  And she, Susan Brown, was only playing this fascinating game exceptionally well.  She had never flirted before and had been rather proud of it.  Well, she was flirting now, and proud of that, too!  She was quite the last girl in the world to fall seriously in love, with her eyes wide open, in so extremely undesirable a direction!  This was not falling in love at all.  Stephen Bocqueraz spoke of his wife half a dozen times a day.  Susan, on her part, found plenty of things about him to dislike!  But he was clever, and—­yes, and fascinating, and he admired her immensely, and there was no harm done so far, and none to be done.  Why try to define the affair by cut-and-dried rules; it was quite different from anything that had ever happened before, it stood in a class quite by itself.

The intangible bond between them strengthened every day.  Susan, watching him when Ella’s friends gathered about him, watching the honest modesty with which he evaded their empty praises, their attempts at lionizing, could not but thrill to know that her praise stirred him, that the deprecatory, indifferent air was dropped quickly enough for her!  It was intoxicating to know, as she did know, that he was thinking, as she was, of what they would say when they next had a moment together; that, whatever she wore, he found her worth watching; that, whatever her mood, she never failed to amuse and delight him!  Her rather evasive beauty grew more definite under his eyes; she bubbled with fun and nonsense.  “You little fool!” Ella would laugh, with an approving glance toward Susan at the tea-table, and “Honestly, Sue, you were killing tonight!” Emily, who loved to be amused, said more than once.

One day Miss Brown was delegated to carry a message to Mr. Bocqueraz in his study.  Mrs. Saunders was sorry to interrupt his writing, but a very dear old friend was coming to dinner that evening, and would Cousin Stephen come into the drawing-room for a moment, before he and Ella went out?

Susan tripped demurely to the study door and rapped.

“Come in!” a voice shouted.  Susan turned the knob, and put her head into the room.  Mr. Bocqueraz, writing at a large table by the window, and facing the door across its shining top, flung down his pen, and stretched back luxuriously in his chair.