little screened recesses
which people--especially young people--said made Lady Meltoun's rooms so
delightful. He placed a chair for her, and taking up a book of
engravings buried himself in it.

"Don't speak to me for five minutes, please," he said. "I am looking for
a design."

At the end of that time he closed the book, and looked up at her. There
was no fear of her fainting now. She was very pale, but she seemed quite
calm.

"I am going to speak to Maddison," he said quietly. "Do you--may I bring
him and introduce him to you?"

She looked up at him with luminous eyes.

"If you please. Don't tell him my name, though."

"It shall be as you wish," he answered.

By moving her chair a few inches she could see into the room. He was
still standing by Lady Meltoun's side, listening with an absent smile to
her chatter, and every now and then bowing gravely to the people whom
she introduced to him. The hum of conversation had been renewed, but
many curious glances were cast in his direction, of which he seemed
altogether unconscious. Even had there not been his great fame as a
critic and a writer, and the romance of his strange manner of life to
interest people, his personal appearance alone was sufficient to attract
attention. He was taller by several inches than any man in the room, and
his thin oval face, refined yet strong and full of a subtle artistic
sensibility, was in itself a deeply interesting study. How different he
appeared here in his well-fitting, fashionable clothes, and calm
distinctive manner, and with just that essence of wearied languor in his
dark eyes which men of the world can only imitate! He had changed, and
yet he had not changed, she thought. He was the same, and yet there was
a difference. Presently she saw Mr. Carlyon reach his side, and the
greeting which passed between the two men was marked with a certain
quiet cordiality which bore out Mr. Carlyon's words, that they had once
been fellow-workers. Watching his opportunity, the artist drew him a
little on one side, and made his request. Helen drew back trembling with
expectancy. But a few minutes later Mr. Carlyon came back to her alone.

"I am sorry," he said simply, "but, even to oblige me, Maddison won't
come. I had no idea he was such a misogynist. He is here, he says, to
keep a promise, but he wishes for no acquaintances, and he absolutely
declines to be introduced to any woman, unless it is forced upon him.
What shall I do? Shall I