ward had taken once or twice. But she felt that
the interval was too short. In that brief period she could not calm
herself sufficiently to face her guests. Indeed, the notion of appearing
alone, or with Brent, at that dinner-party, appalled her. And suddenly
an idea presented itself.

Brent leaned over, and began to direct the chauffeur to a well-known
hotel. She interrupted him.

"No," she said, "I'd rather go to the Holland House."

"Very well," he said amicably, not a little surprised at this
unlooked-for acquiescence, and then told his man to keep straight on
down the Avenue.

She began mechanically to rearrange her hat and veil; and after that,
sitting upright, to watch the cross streets with feverish anticipation,
her hands in her lap.

"Honora?" he said.

She did not answer.

"Raise the veil, just for a moment, and look at me."

She shook her head. But for some reason, best known to herself, she
smiled a little. Perhaps it was because her indignation, which would
have frightened many men into repentance, left this one undismayed. At
any rate, he caught the gleam of the smile through the film of her veil,
and laughed.

"We'll have a little table in the corner of the room," he declared, "and
you shall order the dinner. Here we are," he cried to the chauffeur.
"Pull up to the right."

They alighted, crossed the sidewalk, the doors were flung open to
receive them, and they entered the hotel.

Through the entrance to the restaurant Honora caught sight of the red
glow of candles upon the white tables, and heard the hum of voices. In
the hall, people were talking and laughing in groups, and it came as
a distinct surprise to her that their arrival seemed to occasion no
remark. At the moment of getting out of the automobile, her courage had
almost failed her.

Trixton Brent hailed one of the hotel servants.

"Show Mrs. Spence to the ladies' parlour," said he. And added to
Honora, "I'll get a table, and have the dinner card brought up in a few
moments."

Honora stopped the boy at the elevator door.

"Go to the office," she said, "and find out if Mrs. Joshua Holt is in,
and the number of her room. And take me to the telephone booths. I'll
wait there."

She asked the telephone operator to call up Mr. Spence's house at
Quicksands--and waited.

"I'm sorry, madam," he said, after a little while, which seemed
like half an hour to Honora, "but they've had a fire in the Kingston
exchange, and the Quicksan