She caught her breath with a sob. "Tell him--not to go away!" she begged.
He smiled a little, but electricity lingered in the pressure of his arm. "I think it is time we broke up the meeting," he said. "You had better run back to Isabel. If you wish to keep this episode a secret, Scott is, I believe, gentleman enough to hold his peace."
She was free, and very slowly she released herself. She turned round to Scott, but still she could not--dared not--meet his eyes.
Her limbs were trembling painfully. She felt weak and dizzy. Suddenly she became aware of his hand held out to her, proffering silent assistance.
Thankfully she accepted it, feeling it close firmly, reassuringly, upon her own. "Shall we go upstairs?" he asked, in his quiet, matter-of-fact way. "Isabel is a little anxious about you."
"Oh yes," she whispered tremulously. "Let us go!"
She tottered a little with the words, and he transferred his hold to her elbow. He supported her steadily and sustainingly.
Eustace stepped forward, and lifted the heavy curtain for them with a mask-like ceremony. She glanced up at him as she went through.
He suddenly bent to her. "Good night!" he said again.
There was imperious insistence in his voice. His eyes compelled.
Mutely she responded to the mastery that would not be denied. She lifted her trembling lips to his; and deliberately--in Scott's presence--he kissed her.
She returned his kiss, because she could not do otherwise. She felt as if he had so merged her will into his that she was deprived of all power to resist.
But the hand that held her arm urged her with quiet strength. It led her unfalteringly away.
Ten minutes later Scott descended the stairs alone and returned to the salon.
A dance was in progress. He stood for a space in the doorway, watching. Finally, having satisfied himself that his brother was not among the dancers, he turned away.
With his usual quietness of demeanour, he crossed the vestibule, and looked into the smoking-room. Sir Eustace was not there either, and he was closing the door again when the man himself came up the passage behind him, and clapped a careless hand on his shoulder.
"Are you looking for me, most doughty knight?" he asked.
Scott turned so sharply that the hand fell. "Yes, I am looking for you," he said, and his voice was unusually curt. "Come outside a minute, will you? I want to speak to you."