ld you have? Three quarters of your virtuous ladies
placed in her position would do the same if they had the necessary
looks."

It was evident that he felt the shock of this discovery, and Shelton
understood that personal acquaintance makes a difference, even in a
vagabond.

"This is her beat," said the young foreigner, as they passed the
illuminated crescent, where nightly the shadows of hypocrites and
women fall; and Shelton went from these comments on Christianity to the
station of Charing Cross. There, as he stood waiting in the shadow, his
heart was in his mouth; and it struck him as odd that he should have
come to this meeting fresh from a vagabond's society.

Presently, amongst the stream of travellers, he saw Antonia. She was
close to her mother, who was parleying with a footman; behind them
were a maid carrying a bandbox and a porter with the travelling-bags.
Antonia's figure, with its throat settled in the collar of her cape,
slender, tall, severe, looked impatient and remote amongst the bustle.
Her eyes, shadowed by the journey, glanced eagerly about, welcoming all
she saw; a wisp of hair was loose above her ear, her cheeks glowed cold
and rosy. She caught sight of Shelton, and bending her neck, stag-like,
stood looking at him; a brilliant smile parted her lips, and Shelton
trembled. Here was the embodiment of all he had desired for weeks. He
could not tell what was behind that smile of hers--passionate aching or
only some ideal, some chaste and glacial intangibility. It seemed to
be shining past him into the gloomy station. There was no trembling and
uncertainty, no rage of possession in that brilliant smile; it had the
gleam of fixedness, like the smiling of a star. What did it matter? She
was there, beautiful as a young day, and smiling at him; and she was
his, only divided from him by a space of time. He took a step; her eyes
fell at once, her face regained aloofness; he saw her, encircled by
mother, footman, maid, and porter, take her seat and drive away. It was
over; she had seen him, she had smiled, but alongside his delight lurked
another feeling, and, by a bitter freak, not her face came up before him
but the face of that lady in the restaurant--short, round, and powdered,
with black-circled eyes. What right had we to scorn them? Had they
mothers, footmen, porters, maids? He shivered, but this time with
physical disgust; the powdered face with dark-fringed eyes had vanished;
the fair, remote figur