ab waited, Another moment, and it drove away empty.

She stood and watched it, until it disappeared in the opposite
direction. Heedless of one or two people who came by, she remained on
the spot for several minutes, gazing towards the studios. Presently she
moved that way again. She passed the gate, and walked on to the farther
end of the road, always with glances at the gate. Then she waited
again, and then began to retrace her steps.

How many times backwards and forwards? She neither knew nor cared; it
was indifferent to her whether or not she was observed from the windows
of certain houses. She felt no weariness of body, but time seemed
endless. The longer she stood or walked, the longer was Cecily there
within. For what purpose? Yesterday she was to arrive in London; to-day
she doubtless knew all that had been going on in her absence. And dusk
fell, and twilight thickened. The street-lamps were lit. But Cecily
still remained within.

Twice or thrice some one entered or left the studio-yard, strangers to
Miriam. At length there came forth a man who, after looking about,
hurried away, and in a few minutes returned with a hansom following
him. Seeing that it stopped at the gateway, she approached as close as
she durst, keeping in shadow. There issued two persons, whom at once
she knew--Cecily with Mallard. They spoke together a moment; then both
got into the vehicle and drove away.

That evening Miriam had an engagement to dine out, together with the
Spences. When she reached home, Eleanor, dressed ready for departure
and not a little impatient, met her in the entrance-hall.

"Have you forgotten?"

"No. I am very sorry that I couldn't get back sooner. What is the time?"

It was too late for Miriam to dress and reach her destination at the
appointed hour.

"You must go without me. I hope it doesn't matter. They are not the
kind of people who plan for their guests to go like the animals of
Noah's ark."

This was a sally of unwonted liveliness from Miriam, and it did not
suit very well with her jaded face.

"Will you come after dinner?" Eleanor asked.

"Yes, I will. Make some excuse for me."

So Miriam dined alone, or made a pretence of doing so, and at nine
o'clock joined her friends. Through the evening she talked far more
freely than usual, and with a frequency of caustic remark which made
one or two mild ladies rather afraid of her.

At half-past nine next morning, when she and Eleanor were talking ov