ne.

The earl came up to Nell.

"Are we all here? It is late," he said, in his grave way, and glancing
at the clock.

Nell looked around and counted.

"One more," she said, in as low a tone. As she spoke, the door opened,
and Sir Archie Walbrooke entered.

Nell heard Lady Wolfer hesitate in the middle of a sentence, and saw her
turn away, with her back to the door.

Sir Archie came across the room in his usual deliberate fashion, as
self-possessed and impassive as if he were quite ignorant that he had
kept a roomful of people waiting.

Lady Wolfer gave him her hand without breaking off her conversation with
the prime minister, who was chatting and laughing with the carelessness
of a boy, and as if he had never even heard of a ministerial crisis.

"Afraid I'm late," said Sir Archie, in slow and even tones. "Cab horse
fell down--nearly always does when I'm behind one. Strange."

"I will hand your excuse to the cook," said Lady Wolfer. "I hope he will
believe it. None of us do, I assure you."

The butler announced dinner, and the party coupled and filed in, the
earl taking a dowager duchess, a good-natured lady with an obvious wig
and cheeks which blushed--with rouge--like unto those of a dairymaid.
Nell fell to the lot of an undersecretary for the colonies, who was so
great a favorite of the prime minister's that no one dreamed of asking
the great man without sending an invitation to his friend, who was
generally known as "Sir Charles." Like most clever men, he was
simplicity itself, and he watched Nell through his pince-nez as she
surveyed the brilliant line of guests round the long, oblong table, with
an interest in her interest.

"How well Lady Wolfer is looking to-night," he said, staring at the
hostess at the head of the table. Her eyes were bright, a faint flush on
her cheeks, and her soft hair, which her maid had arranged as
advantageously as short hair can be dressed, shone in the subdued light
of the shaded candles. "One is so accustomed to seeing her in--well,"
and he smiled, "strictly business garb, that full war paint strikes one
with the revelation of her prettiness."

"Yes; isn't she pretty?" said Nell eagerly. "But I always think she is;
though, of course, I like her best in evening dress."

He smiled at the promptitude of her ingenious admiration.

"If I had my way, your sex should always wear one of two costumes: a
riding habit or dinner dress."

"That would be rather inconvenient," sai