it would be to go out there! Perhaps if she stole out, and
waited, presently Drake would come into the ballroom, and, missing her,
would come in search of her, for he would guess that she would be out
there, and they would have a few minutes by themselves under the starlit
sky. It was worth trying for.

She went out, without opening the window any wider, and leaning on the
stone coping, looked up at the sky, and then to where, far away, the few
lights which were still burning showed her where Shorne Mills nestled
amid its trees.

As long as life lasted she would never be able to think of Shorne Mills
without thinking of Drake; she thought of him now, and longed for him;
and as she heard the window open wider she turned with a little throb of
expectation. But instead of Drake's tall figure, two ladies came out.
Nell recognized the beauty by her dress, and saw that the lady who was
with her was the one who had accompanied her to the ball.

Nell's disappointment was so acute as to embarrass her for a moment,
and, reluctant, with a girl's shyness, to be found there alone, she
rather foolishly drew back quietly into the shadow accentuated by the
contrast of the light streaming from the half-open window. She retreated
as far as the corner of the terrace, and, finding a seat there, over
which she had nearly stumbled, she sank into it. Beside her was a marble
statue of the god Pan. The pedestal almost, if not quite, concealed her;
and, although she was already ashamed of having taken flight, so to
speak, she decided to remain where she was until the other two women
returned to the ballroom, or Drake came out and she could call to him.

Lady Luce went and leaned upon almost the very spot where Nell had
leaned; and she looked up at the sky and toward the twinkling lights,
and yawned.

"Sorry you have come, dear?" said Lady Chesney, with a little laugh. "I
know you so well that that yawn speaks volumes."

"It is rather slow, isn't it?" admitted Lady Luce, with the soft little
London drawl in her languid voice.

"My dear Luce, I told you it would be slow. What did you expect? These
dear, good people are quite out of the world--they are antediluvians.
The best people imaginable, of course, but not of the kind which gives
the sort of hop you care for. I'm sorry you came; but I did warn you,
dear, didn't I?"

"Yes, I know," assented Lady Luce.

"And, really, you seemed so bored--forgive me, dear; I don't want to be
offensiv