ng roofs, chimneys, and lamp-posts, to say nothing of the
whirled and driven and bewildered foot-passengers.

"I hear there has been a bad accident in Oxford Street," Lionel said to
the young lady. "Some scaffolding has fallen--a lot of people hurt. I'm
afraid there will be a sad tale to tell from the sea; even now, while
we are secure in this big building, thinking only of amusement, I
suppose there is many a ship laboring in the gale, or going headlong on
to the rocks. Have you far to get home?" he asked.

"Oh, I am going home with Miss Burgoyne," the young lady answered.

But here Miss Burgoyne herself appeared, coming forth in the full
splendor of Grace Mainwaring's bridal attire and with all her radiant
witcheries of make-up, and the poor lad sitting there, who had never
before been so near this vision of delight, seemed quite entranced by
its (strictly speaking) superhuman loveliness. He could not take his
eyes away from her. He did not think of joining in the conversation. He
watched her at the mirror; he watched her making tea; he watched her
munching a tiny piece of bread and butter (which was imprudent on her
part, after the care she had bestowed on her lips); and always he was
silent and spellbound. Miss Burgoyne, on the other hand, was talkative
enough.

"Isn't it an awful night!" she exclaimed. "I thought the cab I came down
in would be blown over. And they say it's getting worse and worse. I
hear there has been a dreadful accident; some of the men were telling
Jane about it; have you heard, Mr. Moore?--something about a scaffold. I
suppose this theatre is safe enough; I don't feel any shaking. But I
know I shall be so nervous going home to-night--I dread it already--"

"Miss Ingram says she is going home with you," Lionel pointed out,
carelessly.

"But that is worse!" the prima-donna cried. "Two women are worse than
one--they make each other nervous; no, what you want is a man's
bluntness of perception--his indifference--and the sense of security you
get from his being there. Two frightened women; how are they going to
keep each other's courage up?"

It was clearly an invitation; almost a challenge. Lionel only said,

"Why, what have you to fear! The blowing over of a cab is about the last
thing likely to happen. If you were walking along the pavement, you
might be struck by a falling slate; but you are out in the middle of the
road. If you go home in a four-wheeled cab, you will be as safe as you