, since it was inconceivable that they could have been
fashioned by mortal hands. Fan, and gloves, and little lacy
handkerchief lay side by side on the pillows; little satin shoes stood
at a jaunty angle, the crystal buckles shining in the sun. The pearl
necklace, which had been a present from dad on her twenty-first
birthday, lay on the toilet-table ready to be snapped on, and a spray of
white roses and maiden-hair floated in a basin of water.

All was ready, and Sylvia beamed with delight at the result of her
preparations. She had come upstairs ostensibly to rest, but in reality
she was far too excited to settle down even to read, and could only
wander about the room inventing one little duty after another, and
weaving endless day-dreams. In a corner of the room stood her
travelling-box, a convenient receptacle into which to put the new
purchases as they arrived from the shops.

The travelling dress, the piles of cool garments for summer wear lay
neatly packed away, looking fresh and dainty enough to have charmed any
girl's heart, but this afternoon Sylvia had no thought for the future;
every hope and ambition was centred on the events of the next few hours.

Three o'clock! How slowly the time passed! Four, five, six, seven,
eight, nine--six hours still to while away before she would drive from
the door with Pixie by her side, and Jack _vis-a-vis_, leaning forward
to look her over, and exclaim in admiration at her fine feathers.

Sylvia could almost imagine that she heard him speak, and saw the sudden
softening of the handsome eyes, and for once in her life she was
inclined to rejoice that Bridgie was again staying at Park Lane, since
Pixie and Pat would be so much engrossed in their own discussions as to
ensure a virtual _tete-a-tete_ for their companions. She rose
restlessly from her seat and walked to the window. Was Pixie occupied
even as she had been herself in laying out her dress for the evening?
She peered curiously through the opposite windows, but no sign of the
inhabitants was to be seen; she yawned, drummed her fingers against the
pane, and stared idly down the road.

It was not a lively neighbourhood at the best of times, and to-day it
seemed even duller than usual. A nurse was wheeling a perambulator
along the pavement, a milkman's cart was making slow progress from door
to door, a telegraph-boy was sauntering down the middle of the road
whistling a popular air. Sylvia wondered where he was