r to take her out because he had imagined she might be lonely.
She felt grateful to him, but with no desire to show it. If it pleased
him to be generous on her behalf, why should she refuse to profit
by it? But here was no thought of giving in return. A woman seldom
meets but one man in the world to whom she will give without a shadow
of the desire for the value in return. What was there in the world
now to prevent her from taking what life offered of its small,
distracting pleasures? A moment of recklessness brought a deceptive
lift to her spirits.

"I shall be very glad to," she said.

In her mind was no unfaithfulness to the memory of Traill. Unfaithful,
even to a slender memory, it was not in her nature to be. The benefit
of the Church now was the only door through which she could pass out
of his life. She considered no likelihood of it; for, in common with
those of her sex in whom the strong waters of emotion run deep in
the vein of sentiment, she felt--being once possessed by him--that
he was the lord of her life.

"But I warn you," she added, with a pathetic smile, "I shan't be good
company. You'll have to do all the talking. You'll have to make all
the jokes."

"I'm prepared to do as much and more," he said lightly.

"Then you must wait while I put on my hat. Play the piano--can you?"

"No--not I. Can you?"

"Yes--just a little."

"Sing?"

"Yes--sometimes."

"Ah, that settles it. We come back here after dinner, and you sing
every song in your repertoire."

She laughed brightly at his enthusiasm. "You're really fond of
music?" she said.

"Yes, passionately. And I suffer little for my passion because I know
absolutely nothing about it. That's a promise, then? You'll sing to
me after dinner?"

"Yes, I should love to."

So much had her spirits lifted in this deceptive atmosphere of
diversion that Devenish even heard her humming a tune in the other
room. And he smiled, looking up to the ceiling with hands spread out
and fingers lightly playing one upon the other.

At a restaurant in Great Portland Street, shut off from the rest of
the room by the astute arrangement of a screen--ranged around every
table, presumably to ward off the draught--they dined in comparative
seclusion. Into the selection of that dinner Devenish put a great
part of his ingenuity. The man who knows how to choose a meal and
savour those intervals between the courses with anecdote, has
reached a high-water mark of social exce