herself retiring to rest. It fell out that,
towards the middle of June, there had been a dinner party at the
Barkings on a scale of magnificence unusual even in that opulent house.
It was not the second, or even the third, time Richard and his mother
had dined in Albert Gate. For Lady Louisa had proved the most
assiduously attentive of neighbours. Little Lady Constance Quayle was
with her. The young girl had brightened notably of late. Her prettiness
was enhanced by a timid and appealing playfulness. She had been seized,
moreover, with one of those innocent and absorbing devotions towards
Lady Calmady, that young girls often entertain towards an elder woman,
following her about with a sort of dog-like fidelity, and watching her
with eyes full of wistful admiration. On the present occasion the
guests at the Barking dinner had been politicians of distinction--members
of the then existing government. A contingent of foreign diplomatists
from the various embassies had been present, together with various
notably smart women. Later there had been a reception, largely
attended, and music, the finest that Europe could produce and money
could buy.

"Louisa climbs giddy heights," Mr. Quayle had said to himself, with an
attempt at irony. But, in point of fact, he was far from displeased,
for it appeared to him the house of Barking showed to uncommon
advantage to-night. "Louisa has no staying power in conversation, and
her voice is too loud, but in snippets she is rather impressive," he
added. "And, oh! how very diligent is Louisa!"

Driving home, Richard kept silence until just as the brougham drew up,
then he said abruptly:--

"Tired? No--that's right. Then come and sit with me. I want to talk. I
haven't an ounce of sleep in me somehow to-night."

It was hot, and when, some three-quarters of an hour later, Katherine
entered the big bedroom on the ground floor, the upper sashes of the
window were drawn low behind the blinds, letting in the muffled roar of
the great city as an undertone to the intermittent sound of footsteps,
or the occasional passing of a belated carriage or cab. It formed an
undertone, also, to Richard's memory of the music to which he had
lately listened, and the delight of which was still in his ears and
pulsing in his blood, making his blue eyes bright and dark and curving
his handsome lips into a very eloquent smile as he lay back against the
piled-up pillows of the bed.

"Good heavens, how divinely Mo