t
was above such transient trifles of reform, and its high endeavours
were confined to questions of immortality, of the infinite, of sex,
and of art: which questions it discussed in fine raiment and with all
the punctilio of courtly politeness.

Edward Henry was late, in common with some two hundred other people,
of whom the majority were elegant women wearing Paris or almost-Paris
gowns with a difference. As on the current of the variegated throng
he drifted through corridors into the bijou theatre of the Society, he
could not help feeling proud of his own presence there--and yet at the
same time he was scorning, in his Five Towns way, the preciosity
and the simperings of those his fellow-creatures. Seated in the
auditorium, at the end of a row, he was aware of an even keener
satisfaction, as people bowed and smiled to him; for the theatre was
so tiny and the reunion so choice that it was obviously an honour and
a distinction to have been invited to such an exclusive affair. To the
evening first fixed for the dramatic soiree of the Azure Society he
had received no invitation. But shortly after the postponement due to
Elsie April's indisposition an envelope addressed by Marrier himself,
and containing the sacred card, had arrived for him in Bursley. His
instinct had been to ignore it, and for two days he had ignored it,
and then he noticed in one corner the initials, "E.A." Strange that it
did not occur to him immediately that E.A. stood, or might stand, for
Elsie April!

Reflection brings wisdom and knowledge. In the end he was absolutely
convinced that E.A. stood for Elsie April; and at the last moment,
deciding that it would be the act of a fool and a coward to decline
what was practically a personal request from a young and enchanting
woman, he had come to London--short of sleep, it is true, owing to
local convivialities, but he had come! And, curiously, he had not
communicated with Marrier. Marrier had been extremely taken up
with the dramatic soiree of the Azure Society--which Edward Henry
justifiably but quite privately resented. Was he not paying three
pounds a week to Marrier?

And now, there he sat, known, watched, a notoriety, the card who had
raised Pilgrim to the skies, probably the only theatrical proprietor
in the crowded and silent audience; and he was expecting anxiously
to see Elsie April again--across the footlights! He had not seen her
since the night of the stone-laying, over a week earlier. He