I am certain of it. It's ridiculous! It's monstrous! It's got to end." He
spoke with impatient finality, his blue eyes challenging remonstrance.
Scott made none. Only after a moment he said, "If you take away one prop,
old chap, you must provide another. A broken thing can't stand alone. But
need we discuss it now? As I told you, she is coming out presently, and
this glorious air is bound to make a difference to her. It tastes like
wine."
It was at this point that the golden-haired girl in red suddenly glided
up and sat down on the bank a few yards away to adjust a skate.
Sir Eustace turned his head, and a sparkle came into his eyes. He watched
her for a moment, then left his brother without further words.
"Can I do that for you?" he asked.
She lifted a flushed face. "Oh, how kind of you! But I have just managed
it. How lovely the ice is this morning!"
She rose with the words, balancing herself with a grace as finished as
his own, and threw him a dazzling smile of gratitude. Scott, from his
post of observation on the bank, decided that she certainly was
beautiful. Her face was almost faultless. And yet it seemed to him that
there was infinitely more of witchery in the face that had laughed from
the window a few minutes before. Almost unconsciously he was waiting to
see the owner of that face emerge.
He watched the inevitable exchange of commonplaces between his brother
and the beautiful Miss de Vigne whose graciousness plainly indicated her
willingness for a nearer acquaintance, and presently he saw them move
away side by side.
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