"  Ah  !  "  he  said,  when  he  was  safe.  "  That  was  a
near  thing,  O'Neill.  I  am  glad  to  see  you  back,  my
friend."

He  was  tranquil ;  even  that  undertone  of  mockery,
so  familiar  in  his  voice,  was  gone.  A  rosary  sprawled
on  his  breast ;  O'Neill  recognized  it  for  a  splendid
piece  of  Renaissance  work  that  had  lain  about  the
room  for  months.
"  I  have  found  my  happiness  in  meditation,"
Regnault  was  saying,  in  a  still,  silken  voice.  "But
tell  me,  O'Neill — will  she  come  ?  "

"  Yes,"  said  O'Neill,  wearily,  "  she  will  come."

Regnault  made  a  gentle  gesture  of  thanks  and  closed
his  eyes.  His  long  fingers  slid  on  the  ivory  beads
and  his  lips  moved.  O'Neill  gazed  down  on  him  with
a  weakness  of  bewilderment :  his  landmarks  were
shifting.
He  was  standing  thus,  looking  in  mere  absence  of
mind,  when  a  footfall  beyond  the  screen  reached  his
ear.
"  O  Lord  !  "  he  cried.
It  was  she.  As  his  eyes  fell  upon  her  she  was
letting  fall  her  long  cloak.  It  lay  on  the  floor  about
her  feet,  and  she  towered  over  it,  in  superb  scarlet.
Against  her  background  of  shadow  her  neck  and  arms
and  the  abundance  of  her  breast  shone  like  silver.
Ere  he  could  go  to  her  she  waved  him  away  with  a
sweep  of  a  naked  arm.  A  hand  was  on  her  hip,  and


198  LOLA

she  moved  towards  the  bed  with  the  sliding  gait  of  the
Spanish  dancer.
