ur had slept well, he said gravely,
"Perfectly, _ma p'tite_," and asked for the morning's newspaper. She
brought it, with a pout of resentment, and as she handed it to him
discovered a fly on his collar. This she was allowed to remove with the
most absolute decorum; but when the operation was finished and she
smiled persuasively, he stroked her hair paternally and said, "You must
not be foolish, my child." Mizzi retired with a heightened color, and he
sat down with satisfaction to the cricket reports and deviled kidneys.
To tell the truth, in spite of his arguments he felt slightly ashamed of
the momentary swerve from loyalty.

His hostess appeared in due course, looking exceedingly pretty and
self-possessed. She was dressed smartly in blue, a color that contrasted
favorably with her hair and eyes. Lionel thrilled with gladness at the
sight of her, for in brief moments of doubt he had thought that perhaps
his imagination had played tricks: the night and artificial lights might
possibly have lent her a fascination that would pass with the dawn.
Could there indeed be so delightful a creature in London? These doubts,
it must be insisted, had been exceedingly brief; still, they had had
existence, and the joy of seeing them dissolve like frost in sunlight
made life more desirable than ever.

There was no embarrassment at the meeting. Both were highly civilized,
educated, up-to-date; with a kindred instinct of what to admit or
ignore, a knowledge of the times when silence or speech was best. The
lady made no reference to the _impasse_ of the night before, and Lionel
was too full of the present to dwell churlishly on the past. Instead,
they talked cheerfully of trivialities for a time, and then Miss Blair
announced her intention of going out to do some shopping. "I will not
ask you to come with me," she observed smiling, "for I can guess how
bored you would be. But I shall be with you again for lunch. For the
present, au revoir."

Lionel, who would cheerfully have carried a score of parcels or
hat-boxes for the pleasure of her company, had no choice but to
acquiesce. There was no pressing reason for returning to his
lodgings--indeed, there was every reason for staying away until he could
earn some money. True, there was no immediate prospect of acquiring any;
but at least he was in the middle of an interesting experience, and he
had promised to help in a burglary. So with a fine disregard of
circumstances he chose the most