Again Rathbone felt himself cold with anger that Melville had allowed this to happen. He was not merely a fool, he was irresponsible. Rathbone had been instinctively sorry for him in the beginning, but now he was annoyed that Melville had not somehow managed to make his feelings plain enough that the Lamberts would have withdrawn from the betrothal themselves and avoided this fiasco. He looked at his client, in the chair next to him, avoiding Rathbone's eyes, staring at nothing. He seemed closed in a world of his own.

The court was waiting.

Delphine Lambert selected her occasion and began. "Mr. Melville had been to speak to my husband about some architectural matter-something to do with oriel windows, I believe. My husband went out, and Mr. Melville came down into the withdrawing room to take tea with Zillah and myself.

This was last autumn. It was one of those late, golden days when everything looks so beautiful and you know it cannot last____________________"

She blinked and made an effort to control emotions which were obviously raw.

Sacheverall waited sympathetically.

"We talked of all sorts of slight things, of no consequence," Delphine continued. "I remember Killian-Mr. Melville-sat in the chair next to the sofa. Zillah sat on the sofa, her skirts all swirled around her. She was wearing pink and she looked wonderful." Her eyes were soft with memory. "He remarked on it. Anyone would have. When you see her you will understand. We talked and laughed. He was interested in everything." She said it with the pleasure of surprise still in her voice. "Every detail seemed to please him. Zillah was telling him about a party she had been to and recounting several anecdotes which really were very funny indeed. I am afraid we were a trifle critical, and our amusement was sometimes not altogether kind… but we laughed so hard we had tears running down our cheeks." She smiled and blinked as if the tears came again, but this time of sorrow. "Zillah has a delicious turn of phrase, and Killian so enjoyed her observations. She was a perfect mimic! Perhaps it is not very ladylike," she apologized. "But we had such fun."

Sacheverall nodded in satisfaction. Even the jurors were smiling.

Rathbone glanced at Melville.

Melville bit his lip and moved his head an inch in acknowledgment. He looked wretched. Perhaps it was the look of innocence, but it had all the air of guilt. The jury could not have missed it.

"Please continue," Sacheverall prompted.

"We had tea," Delphine resumed. "Hot crumpets with melted butter. They are not easy to eat delicately. We laughed at ourselves over that as well. And toasted tea cakes. They were delicious." She made a little gesture of deprecation. "We ate them all. We were so happy we did not even notice.

Then Killian and Zillah got up and went for a walk in the garden. The leaves were turning color and the very first few had fallen. The chrysanthemums were in bloom." She glanced at the judge, then back to Sacheverall. "Such a wonderful perfume they have, earthy and warm. They always make me think of everything that is lovely… rich but never vulgar. If only we could always have such perfect taste." She sighed. "Anyway, Killian and Zillah remained outside for some time, but I was in every proper sense still a chaperone. Zillah told me afterwards they were discussing their ideas for a future home, all the things they would most like to have, and how it would be… colors, styles, furniture… everything two people in love would plan for their future."

Rathbone looked at Melville again. Could any man really be such a complete fool as to have spoken to a woman of such things and not know perfectly well she would take it as a prelude to a proposal of marriage?

"Ts that true?" he demanded under his breath.

Melville turned to him. His face was deep pink with the rush of blood to his cheeks, his eyes were hot, but he did not avoid looking straight back.

"Yes… and no…"

"That won't do!" Rathbone said between his teeth. "If you are not honest with me I cannot help you, and believe me, you are going to need every ounce of help I can think of- and more!"

"That may be how she saw it," Melville answered, looking down now, not at Rathbone. His voice was low and tense. "We did talk about houses and furnishings. But it wasn't for us! I'm an architect… houses are not only my profession, they are my love. I'll talk about design to anyone! I was making suggestions to her about the things she wanted in a home and how they could be achieved. I told her of new ways of creating more warmth, more light and color, of bringing to life the dreams she had. But it was for her-not for both of us!" He turned to face Rathbone again. "I would have spoken the same way to anyone. Yes, of course we laughed together-we were friends…" His eyes were full of distress. Rathbone could have sworn he held that friendship dear and the loss of it hurt him.

Delphine Lambert was still talking, describing other occasions when Melville and Zillah Lambert had been together, their easy companionship, their quick understanding of each other's thoughts, their shared laughter at a score of little things.

Rathbone looked across at the jurors' faces. Their sympathy was unmistakable. To change their minds it would take a revelation about Zillah Lambert so powerful and so shocking it would shatter any emotion they felt now so that they would be left angry and betrayed. And Melville had sworn there was no such secret. Was it conceivable he knew something of her which made it impossible to marry her, yet he still cared for her too deeply to expose it-even to save himself?

It would have to be something her parents did not know, or they would never have risked his revealing it. They could not rely on Melville's self-sacrifice.

And Zillah herself would not dare to tell them, even to save Melville, and thus this whole tragic farce.

Rathbone would have to press Melville harder, until he at last spoke of whatever it was he was still hiding. And Rathbone had felt certain from the first that there was something.

He turned his attention back to the court.

Delphine was describing some grand social event, a ball or a dinner party. Her face was alight with remembered excitement.

"All the girls were simply lovely," she said, her voice soft, her slender hands on the rail in front of her, lightly touching it, not gripping. She might have held a dancing partner so. "The gowns were exquisite." She smiled as she spoke. "Like so many flowers blown in the wind as they swirled around the floor. The chandeliers blazed and were reflected on jewels and hair. The young men were all so dashing. Perhaps it was happiness which made everything seem so glamorous, but I don't think so. I believe it was real. And Killian danced the whole evening with Zillah. He barely spoke with anyone else at all. He sat a few dances out, but I swear I did not see him pay the slightest heed to any other lady, no matter how beautiful or how charming." She gave a little shrug of her shoulders. "And there were many titled ladies there, and heiresses to considerable fortunes. On that particular occasion Lady-"

Sacheverall held up his hand. "I am sure a great many people of note were there, Mrs. Lambert. What is important is that Mr. Melville paid very obvious court to your daughter, for everyone to see, and his intent could hardly be mistaken or misinterpreted. Now, madam, I must bring you to a far more painful area, for which I apologize. I most truly wish I could avoid it, but there is no way in which it is possible."

"I understand." Delphine nodded, the light going from her face, her body seeming almost to shrink as she dismissed past happiness and faced the present icy disillusion. "Do what is necessary, Mr. Sacheverall."

"You have just told me how publicly and how obviously Mr. Melville courted your daughter. It must have been common knowledge among all your acquaintances, indeed in all society, that they were to be married?"