up. Mrs. Austen followed. At once they were in a
large, marble-flagged hall. Beyond, from a lift, a boy in green and
gilt, peered greedily. At the left was a door with a brass plate that
said: "Dr. Winship." Opposite was another door with another plate on
which was "Lennox."

That, also, Mrs. Austen surveyed. "I did not know your young man was an
earl, but perhaps he is merely a duke. Shall we send that boy or do we
ring? In bachelor quarters one hardly knows what to do--or what goes on
in them either," she immediately and suggestively added.

The door at the right had opened. Cassy was coming out. The flush was
still on her face and in her hand was the money. Mechanically she
thumbed it. She had looked down at the roll of bills and through them at
the butcher, the baker, the candlestickmaker. She looked up and saw
Margaret whose photograph she had seen a moment before. Instantly she
recognised her. Instantly she realised that it was for her the violets
and the sack of bonbons were waiting. As quickly she understood why the
teapot had shouted: "Be off!"

From Margaret she glanced at Mrs. Austen, who was well worth it. In and
about her eyes and mouth there was an expression of such lofty
aloofness, an air of such aristocratic disdain, that though she stood
without motion, movement, or gesture; though, too, there was no draught,
the skirt of her admirable frock seemed to lift and avert itself. It was
the triumph of civilised life. Yet that triumph she contrived to
heighten. Raising the glasses which she did not need, she levelled them
at Cassy.

Cassy, who had but glanced at her, arrested the glance and, for a
second, held it on her, but with an unconcern so obliterating that it
had the effect of blotting-paper. Mrs. Austen felt herself disappearing.
It was as though Cassy had looked at her and had seen nothing whatever.

And that to Mrs. Austen! The lady squirmed but she rallied, the more
readily perhaps since now Cassy had gone, and she said and pleasantly
enough: "What a charming vestal! Such an engaging manner! Seemed, too,
so at home! Let me see? It was she, was it not, who was singing last
night? Rather a coincidence, don't you think?"

Margaret made no reply. The incident, though long in the telling, had
barely outlasted a moment, and crossing the hall, she was approaching
Lennox' door.

Without haste, Mrs. Austen circumvented her. "Not to-day, my dear. As it
is, it is fortunate we came on foot. Otherwise,