down in hansoms. Ernestine was rather late in coming downstairs and
found Trent waiting for her in the hall. She was wearing a wonderful
black satin opera cloak with pale green lining, her maid had touched up
her hair and wound a string of pearls around her neck. He watched her
as she came slowly down the stairs, buttoning her gloves, and looking at
him with eyebrows faintly raised to see him waiting there alone. After
all, what folly! Was it likely that wealth, however great, could ever
make him of her world, could ever bring him in reality one degree nearer
to her? That night he had lost all confidence. He told himself that it
was the rankest presumption to even think of her.

"The others," he said, "have gone on. Lady Tresham left word that I was
to take you."

She glanced at the old-fashioned clock which stood in the corner of the
hall.

"How ridiculous to have hurried so!" she said. "One might surely be
comfortable here instead of waiting at the theatre."

She walked towards the door with him. His own little night-brougham was
waiting there, and she stepped into it.

"I am surprised at Lady Tresham," she said, smiling. "I really don't
think that I am at all properly chaperoned. This comes, I suppose, from
having acquired a character for independence."

Her gown seemed to fill the carriage--a little sea of frothy lace and
muslin. He hesitated on the pavement.

"Shall I ride outside?" he suggested. "I don't want to crush you."

She gathered up her skirt at once and made room for him. He directed the
driver and stepped in beside her.

"I hope," she said, "that your cigarette restored your spirits. You are
not going to be as dull all the evening as you were at dinner, are you?"

He sighed a little wistfully. "I'd like to talk to you," he said simply,
"but somehow to-night... you know it was much easier when you were a
journalist from the 'Hour'."

"Well, that is what I am now," she said, laughing. "Only I can't get
away from all my old friends at once. The day after to-morrow I shall be
back at work."

"Do you mean it?" he asked incredulously.

"Of course I do! You don't suppose I find this sort of thing
particularly amusing, do you? Hasn't it ever occurred to you that
there must be a terrible sameness about people who have been brought
up amongst exactly the same surroundings and taught to regard life from
exactly the same point of view?"

"But you belong to them--you have their instincts."

"I ma