"I knew that tiresome Lord Vivianne was coming, and he tries my temper so; he will admire me, and I do not want his admiration."
"Then why keep me away, darling; I might have saved you from it."
"No; I knew you could not. I was obliged to go down to dinner with him, and it would have tried my temper too severely if I had been compelled to sit by him and could not have been with you. You may think it a stupid, childish reason, Earle, but it is a true one. I was determined if I could not talk to you, I would not be annoyed by seeing any one else do so."
He looked slightly puzzled, but, as he said to himself, it was one of her caprices—why not be content?
"If my staying away pleased you," he said, "I am doubly pleased."
Yet it struck him as he spoke, that she had lost some of her animation and brightness.
"How beautiful you look in this light, Dora," he said. "Why, my darling, a king might envy me."
One of the white, jeweled hands rested caressingly on the noble head of the young poet. He had never seen Dora so gentle before.
"My darling!" he cried, his face glowing with its rapture of happiness. "My darling, you are beginning to love me so well at last."
"I do love you, Earle," she said, and for some minutes there was silence between them.