The weather had turned drier, the snow was crisp, and a little party of women from the Hall reached the guns before the beaters were through the wood.  Caroline and Stephanie both took their places by Dominey’s side.  The former, however, after a few minutes passed on to Terniloff’s stand.  Stephanie and Dominey were alone for the first time since their stormy interview in the library.

“Has Maurice been talking to you?” she asked a little abruptly.

“His Excellency and I are, to tell you the truth,” Dominey confessed, “in the midst of a most interesting conversation.”

“Has he spoken to you about me?”

“Your name has not yet been mentioned.”

She made a little grimace.  In her wonderful furs and Russian turban hat she made a rather striking picture against the background of snow.

“An interesting conversation in which my name has not been mentioned!” she repeated satirically.

“I think you were coming into it before very long,” Dominey assured her.  “His Excellency warned me that all he had said so far was merely the prelude to a matter of larger importance.”

Stephanie smiled.

“Dear Maurice is so diplomatic,” she murmured.  “I am perfectly certain he is going to begin by remonstrating you for your shocking treatment of me.”

Their conversation was interrupted for a few minutes by the sport.  Dominey called the faithful Middleton to his side for a further supply of cartridges.  Stephanie bided her time, which came when the beaters at last emerged from the wood.

“Shocking,” Stephanie repeated reverting to their conversation, “is the mildest word in my vocabulary which I can apply to your treatment of me.  Honestly, Leopold, I feel bruised all over inside.  My pride is humbled.”

“It is because you look at the matter only from a feminine point of view,” Dominey persisted.

“And you,” she answered in a low tone, “once the fondest and the most passionate of lovers, only from a political one.  You think a great deal of your country, Leopold.  Have I no claims upon you?”

“Upon Everard Dominey, none,” he insisted.  “When the time comes, and Leopold Von Ragastein can claim all that is his right, believe me, you will have no cause to complain of coldness or dilatoriness.  He will have only one thought, only one hope—­to end the torture of these years of separation as speedily as may be.”

The strained look passed from her face.  Her tone became more natural.

“But, dear,” she pleaded, “there is no need to wait.  Your Sovereign gives you permission.  Your political chief will more than endorse it.”

“I am on the spot,” Dominey replied, “and believe me I know what is safest and best.  I cannot live as two men and keep my face steadfast to the world.  The Prince, however, has not spoken to me yet.  I will hear what he has to say.”

Stephanie turned a little haughtily away.