oice, "Mr. Knowles and Mr. Langley Wyndham!"

She had heard this time. The look she had seen from the doorway was the
same look that had followed her in the Dean's drawing-room at Oxford.
All the emotions of that evening thronged back into her mind--the vague
fascination, the tense excitement, the mortification that resulted from
the wound to her self-love and pride.

So this was Mr. St. John!

A year ago he had refused an introduction to her, and now he wanted to
know her; his friend had said so. He was seeking the acquaintance of his
own accord, without encouragement. How odd it all was! Well, whether his
former discourtesy had been intentional or not, he knew how to apologise
for it gracefully.

She had no time to think more about the matter, for her remaining guests
came in all together; and in another five minutes Audrey was suffering
from that kind of nightmare in which some grave issue--you don't know
precisely what--hangs on the adjustment of trifles, absurdly
disproportionate to the event, and which disarrange themselves
perversely at the dramatic moment. Everything seemed to go wrong. She
had relied on Knowles and Miss Gladys Armstrong for a brilliant display
of intellectual fireworks; but beyond the first casual remarks
absolutely required of them, they had not a word to say to each other.
Miss Armstrong managed cleverly enough to strike a little spark of
epigram from the flinty dialogue. It flickered and went out. Knowles
smiled politely at the abortive attempt; but at her first serious remark
he shook his head, as much as to say, "My dear lady, this is a
conundrum; I give it up," and finally turned to Katherine on his left.
In fact, he monopolised her during the rest of dinner, much to the
annoyance of Mr. Dixon Barnett, who spent himself in futile efforts to
win back her interest,--his behaviour in its turn rousing the uneasy
attention of Mrs. Dixon Barnett. She, again, was so preoccupied in
watching the movements of her lord, that she almost forgot the existence
of Mr. Flaxman Reed, who sat silent and depressed under her shadow.

Wyndham gave Audrey credit for great perspicacity in pairing these two
off together. "Poor fellow," he said to himself; "to preserve him from
the temptations of the world and the flesh, she's considerately sent him
in with the devil." For his own part, he devoted himself to Audrey and
his dinner. From time to time he glanced across the table, and whenever
he did so the corne