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232 Suddenly the duke's window grew bright. The shutters were not closed, and the interior became partially visible to me as I cautiously raised myself till I stood on tiptoe. Thus placed, my range of sight embraced a yard or more inside the window, while the radius of light did not reach me. The window was flung open and someone looked out. I marked Antoinette de Mauban's graceful figure, and though her face was in shadow, the fine outline of her head was revealed against the light behind. I longed to cry softly "Remember!" but I dared not—and happily, for a moment later a man came up and stood by her. He tried to put his arm round her waist, but with a swift motion she sprang away and leaned against the shutter, her profile toward me. I made out who the newcomer was: it was young Rupert. A low laugh from him made me sure, as he leaned forward, stretching out his hand toward her.

"Gently, gently!" I murmured. "You're too soon, my boy!"

His head was close to hers. I suppose he