That is how and why young Windomshire, a most
delightful Londoner, with prospects and a peerage behind him, came to
be a guest in her city house, following close upon a long sojourn in
the Bermudas. HE had been chosen; the battle was over, so far as
Eleanor's hand was concerned. What matter if Dauntless had her heart?
The object of this indifference and scorn gazed long and hard at the
blob of light across the ravine. His heart was beating fast, and his
body tingled with a strange excitement, which made itself manifest in
a mixture of impatient frowns and prophetic smiles.
"If it wasn't such a beastly night," he was muttering in one breath,
and, "Still, it's just the sort of a night we want," in the next. He
was looking at his watch in the light from the window when an
automobile whizzed up the wet gravel drive and came to a stop in front
of the club steps. As Dauntless re-entered the house from the
verandah, a tall young man in a motor coat and goggles came in through
the opposite door. They paused and looked steadily at each other, then
nodded briefly. The crowd of loungers glanced at the two men with
instant curiosity and then breathed easily.
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