lf was so pleased with their mild and thoughtful converse
that he took his leave when they did, and walked with them over to
Oxford Street, where they waited for their 'bus. They asked him to come
to see them in Chelsea, and they spoke very tenderly of Hilda. "She's a
dear, unworldly little thing," said the philosopher absently; "more like
the stage people of my young days--folk of simple manners. There aren't
many such left. American tours have spoiled them, I'm afraid. They have
all grown very smart. Lamb wouldn't care a great deal about many of
them, I fancy."

Alexander went back to Bedford Square a second Sunday afternoon. He had
a long talk with MacConnell, but he got no word with Hilda alone, and
he left in a discontented state of mind. For the rest of the week he was
nervous and unsettled, and kept rushing his work as if he were preparing
for immediate departure. On Thursday afternoon he cut short a committee
meeting, jumped into a hansom, and drove to Bedford Square. He sent up
his card, but it came back to him with a message scribbled across the
front.

So sorry I can't see you. Will you come and
dine with me Sunday evening at half-past seven?

H.B.

When Bartley arrived at Bedford Square on Sunday evening, Marie,
the pretty little French girl, met him at the door and conducted him
upstairs. Hilda was writing in her living-room, under the light of a
tall desk lamp. Bartley recognized the primrose satin gown she had worn
that first evening at Lady Walford's.

"I'm so pleased that you think me worth that yellow dress, you know," he
said, taking her hand and looking her over admiringly from the toes of
her canary slippers to her smoothly parted brown hair. "Yes, it's very,
very pretty. Every one at Lady Walford's was looking at it."

Hilda curtsied. "Is that why you think it pretty? I've no need for
fine clothes in Mac's play this time, so I can afford a few duddies for
myself. It's owing to that same chance, by the way, that I am able to
ask you to dinner. I don't need Marie to dress me this season, so she
keeps house for me, and my little Galway girl has gone home for a visit.
I should never have asked you if Molly had been here, for I remember you
don't like English cookery."

Alexander walked about the room, looking at everything.

"I haven't had a chance yet to tell you what a jolly little place I
think this is. Where did you get those etchings? They're quite unusual,
aren't they?"