or flew on through the icy twilight, her present
cares flew with it. She could not shake off the thought of the useless
fancy dress which symbolized the other crowding expenses she had not
dared confess to Ralph. Van Degen heard her sigh, and bent down,
lowering the speed of the motor.

"What's the matter? Isn't everything all right?"

His tone made her suddenly feel that she could confide in him, and
though she began by murmuring that it was nothing she did so with the
conscious purpose of being persuaded to confess. And his extraordinary
"niceness" seemed to justify her and to prove that she had been right in
trusting her instinct rather than in following the counsels of prudence.
Heretofore, in their talks, she had never gone beyond the vaguest hint
of material "bothers"--as to which dissimulation seemed vain while one
lived in West End Avenue! But now that the avowal of a definite worry
had been wrung from her she felt the injustice of the view generally
taken of poor Peter. For he had been neither too enterprising nor too
cautious (though people said of him that he "didn't care to part"); he
had just laughed away, in bluff brotherly fashion, the gnawing thought
of the fancy dress, had assured her he'd give a ball himself rather
than miss seeing her wear it, and had added: "Oh, hang waiting for the
bill--won't a couple of thou make it all right?" in a tone that showed
what a small matter money was to any one who took the larger view of
life.

The whole incident passed off so quickly and easily that within a few
minutes she had settled down--with a nod for his "Everything jolly again
now?"--to untroubled enjoyment of the hour. Peace of mind, she said to
herself, was all she needed to make her happy--and that was just what
Ralph had never given her! At the thought his face seemed to rise before
her, with the sharp lines of care between the eyes: it was almost like a
part of his "nagging" that he should thrust himself in at such a moment!
She tried to shut her eyes to the face; but a moment later it was
replaced by another, a small odd likeness of itself; and with a cry of
compunction she started up from her furs.

"Mercy! It's the boy's birthday--I was to take him to his grandmother's.
She was to have a cake for him and Ralph was to come up town. I KNEW
there was something I'd forgotten!"

XV

In the Dagonet drawing-room the lamps had long been lit, and Mrs.
Fairford, after a last impatient turn, had put as