py. But a man in the abstract--don't amount to
much!" And Theodora had laughed, but now she wondered if ever she would
think it was true. Would Hector ever appear in the light of a caprice
she could afford, to keep her from yawning? Could she ever truly say,
"He don't amount to much!" Alas! he seemed now to amount to everything
in the world.

The unspeakable flatness of the day! The weariness! The sense of all
being finished! She did not even allow herself to speculate as to what
Hector was doing with himself. She must never let her thoughts turn that
way at all if she could help it. She must devote herself to Josiah and
to getting through the time. But something had gone out of her life
which could never come back, and also something had come in. She was
awake--she, too, had lived for one moment like in _Jean d'Agreve_--and
it seemed as if the whole world were changed.

Captain Fitzgerald did not appear all day, so the Sunday was composed
of unadulterated Josiah. But it was only when Theodora was alone at last
late at night, and had opened wide her windows and again looked out on
the moon, that a little cry of anguish escaped her, and she remembered
she would see Hector to-morrow at the dinner-party. See him casually, as
the rest of the guests, and this is how it would be forever--for ever
and ever.

* * * * *

Lord Bracondale had passed what he termed a dog's day. He had gone
racing, and there had met, and been bitterly reproached by, Esclarmonde
de Chartres for his neglect.

_Qu'est-ce qu'il a eu pour toute une semaine?_

He had important business in England, he said, and was going off at
once; but she would find the bracelet she had wished for waiting for her
at her apartment, and so they parted friends.

He felt utterly revolted with all that part of his life.

He wanted nothing in the world but Theodora. Theodora to worship and
cherish and hold for his own. And each hour that came made all else seem
more empty and unmeaning.

Just before dinner he went into the widow's sitting-room. She was
alone, Marie had said in the passage--resting, she thought, but madame
would certainly see milord. She had given orders for him to be admitted
should he come.

"Now sit down near me, beau jeune homme," Mrs. McBride commanded from
the depths of her sofa, where she was reclining, arrayed in exquisite
billows of chiffon and lace. "I have been expecting you. It is not
because I have been