n, she suggested I should ask you."

"But she'd never seen me!"

"She's heard of you. Mrs. Orgreave, I expect."

"Odd!... Odd!" George now pretended to be academically assessing an
announcement that had no intrinsic interest for him. In reality he was
greatly excited.

"Well you know what those sort of women are!" Lucas summed up wisely, as
if referring to truths of knowledge common among men of their kidney.

"Oh, of course!"

The magazine slid from the knees of the sleeper. The sleeper snorted and
woke up. The spell was broken. Lucas rose suddenly. "Bye-bye!" He was
giving an ultimatum as to his departure.

George rose also, but slowly.

"All that doesn't explain why she didn't ask us up," said he.

But in his heart he thought he knew why Miss Wheeler hadn't asked them
up. The reason was that she maliciously wanted to tantalize him, George.
She had roused his curiosity about Lois, and then she had said to
herself: "You think you're going to see her to-night, but you just
aren't." Such, according to George, was Irene Wheeler the illustrious.
He reflected on the exasperating affair until he had undressed and got
into bed. But as soon as he had put out the light Marguerite appeared
before him, and at the back of her were the examiners for the Final. He
slept ill.

CHAPTER VII

THE RUPTURE

I

During the whole of the next day George waited for a letter from
Marguerite. There was nothing at the club by the first post; he went to
the office, hoping that as he had addressed his telegram from Russell
Square she might have written to Russell Square; there was nothing at
Russell Square. At lunch-time no word had arrived at the club; when the
office closed no word had arrived at the office; the last post brought
nothing to the club. He might have sent another telegram to Alexandra
Grove, but he was too proud to do so. He dined alone and most miserably
at the club. Inspired by unhappiness and resentment, he resolved to go
to bed; in bed he might read himself to sleep. But in the hall of the
club his feet faltered. Perhaps it was the sight of hats and sticks that
made him vacillate, or a glimpse of reluctantly dying silver in the
firmament over Candle Court. He wavered; he stood still at the foot of
the stairs. The next moment he was in the street. He had decided to call
on Agg at the studio. Agg might have the clue to Marguerite's astounding
conduct, though he had it not. He took a hansom, after saying he