wonder they had wanted it quiet! 

Though she hardly looked at the table before her she seemed to see nothing but those smooth, ivory balls, and the only sound in the world was their monotonous click, click! 

Chris was winning, young Atkins whispered to her. Poor old Feathers 24 was not in the running at all. He bent a little closer to her. 

24

"Have you seen Chris play tennis?" he asked. "Gad! He can serve! As good as any Wimbledon 'pro'! I'll bet my boots . . . I say, what's the matter? Here, Chris!" 

He called sharply across the room to Chris, but it was too late, for Marie had slipped fainting from the high leather couch. 

25 

25

 CHAPTER III 

 ". . . the leaves are curled apart. 

 Still red as from the broken heart, 

 And here's the naked stem of thorns." 

THE game stopped abruptly, and between them Chris and Feathers carried Marie from the room. "It was the smoke, and the heat!" Atkins kept saying in distress. He felt angry with himself for not having noticed how pale she looked. "It was jolly hot! It was the smoke and stuffiness. It'' an ordinary faint, isn't it?" 

Nobody took any notice of him, or answered him, but he kept on talking all the same. He was young and impressionable, and he thought Marie was altogether charming. He was thankful when at last her lashes fluttered and she opened her eyes. 

Feathers, who was bending over her, moved away, and Chris came forward. 

"Better?" he asked. "It was the hot room; I'll take you upstairs. It's all right, you only fainted." 

Only fainted! Years afterwards he remembered the passionate look in her brown eyes as she raised them to his face, and wondered what her thoughts had been. Perhaps he would have understood a great deal of what she was suffering if he had known that the wild words trembling on her lips were: 

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