sked a question
about the Rookes with averted eyes.

"Poor girl," said the friend; "she is in grief over Godfrey Langrishe.
He sails to-morrow."

The rest of that luncheon-party was a phantasmagoria of faces and voices
to poor Nelly. He was going, and she would never see him again, although
he had shown her by a thousand infallible signs that he loved her.
Despite his occasional coldness, she was sure he loved her. Her pride
was down with a vengeance. She felt nothing at the moment but a desire
to see him before he should go--just to see him, to see the lighting up
of his gloomy eyes, as they had lit up on seeing her suddenly before he
could get his face under control. After that one meeting, the deluge!
But she must see him--she must see him for the last time.

The kindly hostess insisted on her going home in a cab. When she had
been driven some distance, Nelly pushed up the little trapdoor of the
hansom and gave another address than Sherwood Square.

Having done it, she felt happier. However it ended, she was making a
last attempt to see him. She could not have endured a passive
acquiescence in her destiny, whatever was to be the end of it.

The luncheon-party had been prolonged, and the gas-lamps in the streets
were lit. It was the close of the short winter's day. Night came
prematurely between the high Bayswater houses. It was almost dark when
she stood at last on Mrs. Rooke's doorstep, asking herself what she
should do if Mrs. Rooke was away from home.

Mrs. Rooke was out, as it happened, but the maid-servant, who knew
Nelly, and, like all servants, had been captivated by her pleasant,
friendly ways, invited her in to await the lady's return. Mrs. Rooke was
expected back to tea. With a smile on her lips she held the drawing-room
door open for Nelly to enter.

Nelly passed through. There was a big French screen by the door. She had
passed beyond it and out into the warm firelit room before she realised
that there was another occupant. Someone stood up from the couch by the
fireplace as she came towards it. Fate had been on her side for once.
The person was Captain Langrishe.

"My sister will not be very long, Miss Drummond," he began, in a tone he
tried in vain to make indifferent. "I hope you won't mind waiting in my
company."

Mind waiting, indeed! To Nelly, as to himself, the seconds were precious
ones. Mrs. Rooke was shopping on that particular afternoon. It was a
kind fate that made it so difficult f