They looked, however, to their irresistible utmost when he came to make
his nice, well-behaved bow to his hostess.

"I love his bow," Eileen whispered. "It is such a beautiful _tall_ bow.
And he looks as good as he is beautiful."

"Oh! not _good_ exactly!" protested Winifred. "Just _sweet_--as if he
thinks you are quite as nice as himself."

He was taken from one group to another and made much of and flattered
quite openly. He was given claret cup and feathery sandwiches and asked
questions and given information. He was chattered to and whispered about
and spent half an hour in a polite vortex of presentation. He was not as
highly entertained as his companion was because he was thinking of
something else--of a place which seemed incredibly far away from London
drawing-rooms--even if he could have convinced himself that it existed
on the same earth. The trouble was that he was always thinking of this
place--and of others. He could not forget them even in the midst of any
clamour of life. Sometimes he was afraid he forgot where he was and
might look as if he were not listening to people. There were moments
when he caught his breath because of a sudden high throb of his heart.
How could he shut out of his mind that which seemed to _be_ his
mind--his body--the soul of him!

It was at a moment when he was thinking of this with a sudden sense of
disturbance that a silver toned voice evidently speaking to him
attracted his attention.

The voice was of silver and the light laugh was silvery.

"You look as if you were not thinking of any of us," the owner said.

He turned about to find himself looking at one of the prettiest of the
filmily dressed creatures in the room. Her frock was one of the briefest
and her tiny heels the highest and most slender. The incredible foot and
ankle wore a flesh silk stocking so fine that it looked as though they
were bare--which was the achievement most to be aspired to. Every atom
of her was lovely and her small deep-curved mouth and pure large eyes
were like an angel's.

"I believe you remember me!" she said after a second or so in which they
held each other's gaze and Donal knew he began to flush slowly.

"Yes," he answered. "I do--now I have looked again. You were--The Lady
Downstairs."

She flung out the silver laugh again.

"After all these years! After one has grown old and withered and
wrinkled--and has a grown-up daughter."

He answered with a dazzling young-man-of-the-worl