drawing from him an articulate "What in damnation—?" His speculation dropped before the return of his hostess, whose approach through the other room fell upon his ear and whom he awaited after a quick thrust of the cheque into his waistcoat.
Lady Sandgate appeared now in due—that is in the most happily adjusted—splendour; she had changed her dress for something smarter and more appropriate to the entertainment of Princes. "Tea will be downstairs," she said. "But you're alone?"
"I've just parted," her friend replied, "with Grace and Mr. Crimble."
"'Parted' with them?"—the ambiguity struck her.
"Well, they've gone out together to flaunt their monstrous connection!"
"You speak," she laughed, "as if it were too gross—! They're surely coming back?"
"Back to you, if you like—but not to me."
"Ah, what are you and I," she tenderly argued, "but one and the same quantity? And though you may not as yet absolutely rejoice in—well, whatever they're doing," she
