dith were introduced. Then Edith found a friend in a young
London member who was to be one of the party, and strolled off with him
till dinner should be announced.

"I will just take Miss Boyce to the end of the terrace," said Wharton to
Mr. Lane; "we shan't get anything to eat yet awhile. What a crowd! The
Alresfords not come yet, I see."

Lane shrugged his shoulders as he looked round.

"Raeburn has a party to-night. And there are at least three or four
others besides ourselves. I should think food and service will be
equally scarce!"

Wharton glanced quickly at Marcella. But she was talking to Mrs. Lane,
and had heard nothing.

"Let me just show you the terrace," he said to her. "No chance of dinner
for another twenty minutes."

They strolled away together. As they moved along, a number of men
waylaid the speaker of the night with talk and congratulations--glancing
the while at the lady on his left. But presently they were away from the
crowd which hung about the main entrance to the terrace, and had reached
the comparatively quiet western end, where were only a few pairs and
groups walking up and down.

"Shall I see Mr. Bennett?" she asked him eagerly, as they paused by the
parapet, looking down upon the grey-brown water swishing under the fast
incoming tide. "I want to."

"I asked him to dine, but he wouldn't. He has gone to a
prayer-meeting--at least I guess so. There is a famous American
evangelist speaking in Westminster to-night--I am as certain as I ever
am of anything that Bennett is there--dining on Moody and Sankey. Men
are a medley, don't you think?--So you liked his speech?"

"How coolly you ask!" she said, laughing. "Did _you_?"

He was silent a moment, his smiling gaze fixed on the water. Then he
turned to her.

"How much gratitude do you think I owe him?"

"As much as you can pay," she said with emphasis. "I never heard
anything more complete, more generous."

"So you were carried away?"

She looked at him with a curious, sudden gravity--a touch of defiance.

"No!--neither by him, nor by you. I don't believe in your Bill--and I am
_sure_ you will never carry it!"

Wharton lifted his eyebrows.

"Perhaps you'll tell me where you are," he said, "that I may know how to
talk? When we last discussed these things at Mellor, I _think_--you were
a Socialist?"

"What does it matter what I was last year?" she asked him gaily, yet
with a final inflection of the voice which was not gay; "I w