Carleigh had been to search more carefully for the ring. But he had not succeeded. And now it came to him gloomily that should he ever renew his engagement with Rosamond Veynol—of course he had no intention of doing so; but if he ever should—he would have to invent some lie and tell it her.
Still, losing the ring—and losing it under such very unpleasant conditions—was the first circumstance that had ever presented the possibility of a renewal to him in a concrete form.
After he had gone up to his room Nina rose from the deep seat where she had been buried in the current Revue des Deux Mondes, and crossed to where Nibbetts—Charlotte Grey having left him—now stood alone by the window, staring out over the desolate garden.
"I want to speak to you, Hal," she said earnestly, and turning, saw that the others—all in a waiting mood, as they were about to go—were clustered before the fire. "I want to speak to you, seriously," she emphasized, and laid a hand on his arm.
"It's no use, Nina," he returned roughly, shaking off the plaintive hand. "I am the one man you can't cajole. Don't touch me."
But she still stood there, her eyes downcast. "I want to be good, Hal," she declared, her tone all contrition. "You know how hard I try. I'm trying uncommonly hard this time; but he's so tempting.
"Please do me a favor. I'm not asking much. I'm not really. Chain him up, won't you? Don't—oh, don't let him follow me. No good can come of it. He'll never go back to them if I spoil him any more. Interfere. You can if you will. Do—please, do!"
A look of utter disgust spread over the man's face.
"You make me so devilish angry," he growled below his breath. "One expects this kind of thing from men. But not from women."
"Men go a bit further than I do," she rejoined. "But never mind that. I beg you to do something. Disable him, why don't you? It will be a mercy to us all. He isn't strong enough to stand it, you know. Take him away, at least."