"I'm afraid I didn't appreciate it," he admitted.

"Perhaps you won't come to see me again, then?" she asked. "I hope you
will."

"I will come," he said a little stiffly, "with pleasure!"

They were on the ground floor, and Juliet opened the door. Wingrave's
motor was outside, and the man touched his hat. She gave a little
breathless cry.

"It isn't yours?" she exclaimed.

"Certainly," he answered. "Do you want to come and look at it?"

"Rather!" she exclaimed. "I have never seen one close to in my life."

He hesitated.

"I'll take you a little way, if you like," he said.

Her cheeks were pink with excitement.

"If I like! And I've never been in one before! I'll fly up for my hat. I
sha'n't be a moment."

She was already halfway up the first flight of stairs, with a whirl of
skirts and flying feet. Wingrave lit a cigarette and stood for a moment
thoughtfully upon the pavement. Then he shrugged his shoulders. His face
had grown a little harder.

"She must take her chances," he muttered. "No one knows her. Nobody is
likely to find out who she is."

She was down again in less time than seemed possible. Her cheeks were
flushed and her eyes bright with excitement. Wingrave took the wheel
himself, and she sat up by his side. They glided off almost noiselessly.

"We will go up to the Park," he said. "It is just the time to see the
people."

"Anywhere!" she exclaimed. "This is too lovely!"

They passed from Battersea northwards into Piccadilly, and down into the
Park. Juliet was too excited to talk; Wingrave had enough to do to drive
the car. They passed plenty of people who bowed, and many who glanced
with wondering admiration at the beautiful girl who sat by Wingrave's
side. Lady Ruth, who drive by quickly in a barouche, almost rose from
her seat; the Marchioness, whose victoria they passed, had time to wave
her hand and flash a quick, searching glance at Juliet, who returned
it with her dark eyes filled with admiration. The Marchioness smiled to
herself a little sadly as the car shot away ahead.

"If one asked," she murmured to herself, "he would try to persuade one
that it was another victim."

NEMESIS AT WORK

Wingrave was present that evening at a reception given by the Prime
Minister to some distinguished foreign guests. He had scarcely exchanged
the usual courtesies with his host and hostess before Lady Ruth, leaning
over from a little group, whispered in his ear.

"Please take me away. I