waited patiently."

"It was very wicked of me," she admitted. "But I shall keep you tortured
with curiosity till the moment I give it to you. I have it at home. We
had better drive back all the way, if we can find a vehicle."

They slipped out of the box and along the corridor and into the open
road. It was a keen night, but very clear. The perspective of street
lamps stretched endlessly on either hand. There was a plentiful
sprinkling of people about, and the tram-cars were still passing. At the
kerb were a few cabs, waiting for possible clients, so they selected the
smartest of the vehicles; and the driver, who had been standing flinging
his arms about for warmth, climbed into his seat, stolidly indifferent
that "fares" from the theatre should wish to go so far afield into the
regions of the elect.

No doubt the horse was glad to be off, for they started at an
astonishingly brisk pace. Outside lay the endless road and all the
shuttered world of streets and houses, over which still hung the romance
of their splendid day. Quietly they had their last glimpses, as if
fearing to speak, and yet thrillingly conscious of their proximity to
each other. Lady Betty was sunk in sadness; as if she recognised now
that any affectation of cheerfulness was utterly vain. And Wyndham was
thinking of the definite moment of parting. He had resigned himself to
saying "goodbye" at the door of her home; not daring to suggest now that
she should visit his studio, even for the first time and last--since the
chance had not naturally arisen in the course of the day's wanderings,
and she had not even expressed the desire for it. Indeed, in all these
weeks she had thrown out no hint of such a wish, and he had felt that
she considered the ground as within Alice's absolute sphere, and would
not intrude on it. No doubt many mingled shades of feeling went to
create this attitude of hers. Still, Wyndham, having dreamed of her
coming there on this last day, was to that extent unsatisfied. Time and
again the suggestion mounted to his lips even at this eleventh hour, but
he had not the confidence to let the words fall.

Perhaps they had both fallen into reverie, for Wyndham found himself
saying suddenly, "Why, here is the Bank of England!" And Lady Betty
started, too, astonished at the stillness and the solitude here in the
heart of the City.

"The night seems darker now, and how ghostly and silent the lights are!"
she said. "The sky has clouded. Goo