e room.

"A parcel of idiots, nurse, aren't we?" he said, as he, too, displayed
himself, and then he followed Kitty to the child's bedside. She bent
over the baby, removed a corner of the cot-blanket that might tease his
cheek, touched the mottled hand softly, removed a light that seemed to
her too near--and still stood looking.

"We must go, Kitty."

"I wish he were a little older," she said, discontentedly, under her
breath, "that he might wake up and see us both! I should like him to
remember me like this."

"Queen and huntress, come away!" said Ashe, drawing her by the hand.

Outside the landing was dimly lighted. The servants were all waiting in
the hall below.

"Kitty," said Ashe, passionately, "give me one kiss. You're so sweet
to-night--so sweet!"

She turned.

"Take care of my dress!" she smiled, and then she held out her face
under its sparkling crescent, held it with a dainty deliberation, and
let her lips cling to his.

* * * * *

Ashe and Kitty were soon wedged into one of the interminable lines of
carriages that blocked all the approaches to St. James's Square. The
ball had been long expected, and there was a crowd in the streets, kept
back by the police. The brougham went at a foot's pace, and there was
ample time either for reverie or conversation. Kitty looked out
incessantly, exclaiming when she caught sight of a costume or an
acquaintance. Ashe had time to think over the latest phase of the
negotiations with America, and to go over in his mind the sentences of a
letter he had addressed to the <i>Times</i> in answer to one of great
violence from Geoffrey Cliffe. His own letter had appeared that morning.
Ashe was proud of it. He made bold to think that it exposed Cliffe's
exaggerations and insincerities neatly, and perhaps decisively. At any
rate, he hummed a cheerful tune as he thought of it.

Then suddenly and incongruously a recollection occurred to him.

"Kitty, do you know that I had a letter from your mother, this morning?"

"Had you?" said Kitty, turning to him with reluctance. "I suppose she
wanted some money."

"She did. She says she is very hard up. If I cared to use it, I have an
easy reply."

"What do you mean?"

"I might say,' D---n it, we are, too!'"

Kitty laughed uneasily.

"Don't begin to talk money matters now, William, <i>please</i>."

"No, dear, I won't. But we shall really have to draw in."

"You <i>will</i> pay so many debts