y there was a noise of voices in the hall outside. The
drawing-room door was thrown open, and the parlourmaid announced:

"Mr. Falloden."

Mrs. Hooper rose hastily. Radowitz wavered in a march finale he was
improvising, and looked round.

"Oh, go on!" cried Constance.

But Radowitz ceased playing. He got up, with an angry shake of his wave
of hair, muttered something about "another couple of hours' work" and
closed the piano.

Constance remained sitting, as though unaware of the new arrival in the
room.

"That was wonderful!" she said, with a long breath, her eyes raised to
Radowitz. "Now I shall go and read Polish history!"

A resonant voice said:

"Hullo--Radowitz! Good-evening, Lady Connie. Isn't this a scandalous
time to call? But I came about the ball-tickets for next Wednesday--to
ask how many your aunt wants. There seems to be an unholy rush on them."

Connie put out a careless hand.

"How do you do? We've been having the most divine music! Next Wednesday?
Oh, yes, I remember!" And as she recovered her hand from Falloden, she
drew it across her eyes, as though trying to dispel the dream in which
Radowitz's playing had wrapped her. Then the hand dropped, and she saw
the drawing-room door closing on the player.

Falloden looked down upon her with a sarcastic mouth, which, however,
worked nervously.

"I'm extremely sorry to bring you down to earth. I suppose he's awfully
good."

"It's genius," said Connie, breathlessly--"just that--genius! I had no
idea he had such a gift." Falloden shrugged his shoulders without reply.
He threw himself into a chair beside her, his knees crossed, his hands
on the topmost knee, with the finger-tips lightly touching, an attitude
characteristic of him. The lamp which had been brought in to light the
piano shone full upon him, and Constance perceived that, in spite of his
self-confident ease of bearing, he looked haggard and pale with the long
strain of the schools. Her own manner relaxed.

"Have you really done?" she asked, more graciously.

"I was in for my last paper this afternoon. I am now a free man."

"And you've got your First?"

He laughed.

"That only the gods know. I may just squeak into it."

"And now you've finished with Oxford?"

"Oh, dear, no! There's a fortnight more. One keeps the best--for the
last."

"Then your people are coming up again for Commem.?" The innocence of the
tone was perfect.

His sparkling eyes met hers.

"I have no domes