had time to read the morning's report of the night's doings at
the House, Salome entered the room.

The banker darted a swift keen look at her, that took in her whole aspect
at a glance.

She was dressed for a drive. She wore a simple suit of rich brown silk,
with hat, vail and gloves to match, white linen collar and cuffs, and
crimson ribbon bow on her bosom, and a crimson rose in her hat. Her face
was pale and clear, but so thin that her broad, fair forehead looked too
broad beneath its soft waves of dark hair, and her deep gray eyes seemed
too large and bright under their arched black eyebrows.

"You wished to see me, dear papa?" she said, gently.

"Yes, my love. But--you are going out? Of course you are. You are always
going out, when you are not gone. I hope, however, that I have not
interfered with any very important engagement of yours, my dear?" said
the banker, half impatiently, half affectionately.

"Oh, no, papa, love! I was only going with Lady Belgrade to a flower-show
at the Crystal Palace. I will give it up very willingly if you wish me to
do so," said Salome, gently, stooping and pressing her lips to his, and
then seating herself on the side of his bed.

"I do not wish you to do so, my child. I shall be going out myself in
a couple of hours. But I want to have a little conversation with you.
I suppose a few minutes more or less will make no difference in your
enjoyment of the flower-show."

"None whatever, papa, dear."

"Humph! Salome, now that I look at you well, I do not believe you care
a penny for the flower-show. Come, tell me the truth, girl. Do you care
one penny to go to the flower-show?" he inquired, looking keenly into her
pensive face.

"No, papa, dear," she answered, in a very low tone.

"Humph! I thought not. Now do you care for _any_ of the shows,
plays, balls, and other tom-fooleries that occupy you day and night?
I pause for a reply, my daughter."

"No, papa, I do not," she answered, in a still lower tone.

"Then why the deuce do you go to them?" demanded the banker.

His daughter's soft, gray eyes sank beneath his scrutinizing gaze, but
she did not answer. How _could_ she confess that she went out into
company daily and nightly only in the hope of seeing again the one man
to whom she had given her unsought heart, and for whose presence her very
soul seemed famishing.

"What is it that you _do_ care for, then, Salome?" demanded her
father, varying his question.

Her he