enix grew pale.

"You make of life a very dreadful kind of lottery, ma'am," said he. "But
I will not despair. Honest and unornamental is still my choice."

And I must say he looked extremely handsome and very amusingly like the
marble statue with its nose in the air to which I had compared him.

"I cannot imagine how we got upon this subject," said Flora.

"Madam, it was through the war," replied Chevenix.

"All roads lead to Rome," I commented. "What else would you expect Mr.
Chevenix and myself to talk of?"

About this time I was conscious of a certain bustle and movement in the
room behind me, but did not pay to it that degree of attention which
perhaps would have been wise. There came a certain change in Flora's
face; she signalled repeatedly with her fan; her eyes appealed to me
obsequiously; there could be no doubt that she wanted something--as well
as I could make out, that I should go away and leave the field clear for
my rival, which I had not the least idea of doing. At last she rose from
her chair with impatience.

"I think it time you were saying good-night, Mr. Ducie!" she said.

I could not in the least see why, and said so.

Whereupon she gave me this appalling answer, "My aunt is coming out of
the card-room."

In less time than it takes to tell, I had made my bow and my escape.
Looking back from the doorway I was privileged to see, for a moment, the
august profile and gold eye-glasses of Miss Gilchrist issuing from the
card-room; and the sight lent me wings. I stood not on the order of my
going; and a moment after, I was on the pavement of Castle Street, and
the lighted windows shone down on me, and were crossed by ironical
shadows of those who had remained behind.

CHAPTER XXIX

EVENTS OF TUESDAY: THE TOILS CLOSING

This day began with a surprise. I found a letter on my breakfast-table
addressed to Edward Ducie, Esquire; and at first I was startled beyond
measure. "Conscience doth make cowards of us all!" When I had opened it,
it proved to be only a note from the lawyer, enclosing a card for the
Assembly Ball on Thursday evening. Shortly after, as I was composing my
mind with a segar at one of the windows of the sitting-room, and Rowley,
having finished the light share of work that fell to him, sat not far
off tootling with great spirit, and a marked preference for the upper
octave, Ronald was suddenly shown in. I got him a segar, drew in a chair
to the side of the fire, and insta