-the sound of a passing taxicab, the distant booming of Big Ben,
sounds of the world outside, the actual day-by-day world, with its
day-by-day code of morals, the world in which she lived, and her
friends, and all that had made life for her. She drew away, and he
watched the change in her.

"I want to go!" she cried. "Let me go!"

"You are no prisoner," he assured her sadly.

He clapped his hands. She had reached the door by now and found the
handle yield to her fingers. Outside in the hall, the front door stood
open, and a heavy rain was beating in on the white flags. She looked
around. She was in her own atmosphere here. Their eyes met, and his were
very sorrowful.

"My servants are assembling," he said. "You will find a car at your
service."

Even then she hesitated. There was a strange return of the wonderful
emotion of a few minutes ago. She hoped almost painfully that he would
call. Instead, he lifted the silk hangings and passed out of sight.
Somehow or other, she made her way down the hall. A butler stood upon
the steps, another servant was holding open the door of a limousine just
drawn up. She had no distinct recollection of giving any address. She
simply threw herself back amongst the cushions. It was not until they
were in Piccadilly that she suddenly remembered that she had left upon
the table the papers he had scornfully offered her. Then she began to
laugh.

CHAPTER XXI

It chanced that the box was empty when Maggie, with flying footsteps,
hastened down the corridor and pushed open the door. She sank into a
chair, her knees trembling, her senses still dazed. Deliberately,
although with hot and trembling fingers, she folded over and tore into
small pieces a programme of the dances, which she had picked up from an
adjoining chair. The action, insignificant though it was, seemed to
bring her back into touch with the real and actual world, the world of
music and wild gayety, of swiftly moving feet, of laughter and
languorous voices. For a brief space of time she had escaped, she had
wandered a little way into an unknown country, a country from whose
thrilling dangers she had emerged with a curious feeling that life would
never be altogether the same again. She glanced at the clock at the back
of the box. She had been absent from the Hall altogether only about an
hour and twenty minutes. There was still at least an hour before it
would be possible for her to plead weariness and escape. And opp