hall now say
good-night to you."

CHAPTER XXI

It was only ten o'clock when Endymion returned to Warwick Street, and
for the first time in his life used a pass-key, with which Mr. Rodney
had furnished him in the morning, and re-entered his new home. He
thought he had used it very quietly, and was lighting his candle and
about to steal up to his lofty heights, when from the door of the
parlour, which opened into the passage, emerged Miss Imogene, who took
the candlestick from his hand and insisted on waiting upon him.

"I thought I heard something," she said; "you must let me light you up,
for you can hardly yet know your way. I must see too if all is right;
you may want something."

So she tripped up lightly before him, showing, doubtless without
premeditation, as well-turned an ankle and as pretty a foot as could
fall to a damsel's fortunate lot. "My sister and Mr. Rodney have gone to
the play," she said, "but they left strict instructions with me to see
that you were comfortable, and that you wanted for nothing that we could
supply."

"You are too kind," said Endymion, as she lighted the candles on his
dressing-table, "and, to tell you the truth, these are luxuries I am not
accustomed to, and to which I am not entitled."

"And yet," she said, with a glance of blended admiration and pity, "they
tell me time was when gold was not good enough for you, and I do not
think it could be."

"Such kindness as this," said Endymion, "is more precious than gold."

"I hope you will find your things well arranged. All your clothes are in
these two drawers; the coats in the bottom one, and your linen in those
above. You will not perhaps be able to find your pocket-handkerchiefs
at first. They are in this sachet; my sister made it herself. Mr. Rodney
says you are to be called at eight o'clock and breakfast at nine. I
think everything is right. Good-night, Mr. Endymion."

The Rodney household was rather a strange one. The first two floors, as
we have mentioned, were let, and at expensive rates, for the apartments
were capacious and capitally furnished, and the situation, if not
distinguished, was extremely convenient--quiet from not being a
thoroughfare, and in the heart of civilisation. They only kept a couple
of servants, but their principal lodgers had their personal attendants.
And yet after sunset the sisters appeared and presided at their
tea-table, always exquisitely dressed; seldom alone, for Mr. Rodney
had many