for Winifred flung a swift
glance round, and then fixed her eyes upon the dominant figure in the
corn-straw dress that the glare of light fell shimmering on. The sweet
voice was still rising, and she longed that the accompanist would force
the tone to cover it a little, and put the loud pedal on. He, however,
was gazing at his music, and played on quietly until, with startling
suddenness, the climax came.

The voice sank a full tone, jarring horribly on the theme, rose, and
hoarsely trailed off into silence again. Then the accompanist glanced
over his shoulder, and struck a ringing chord while he waited for a
sign, and there was a curious stirring among the audience. The girl in
the shimmering dress stood quite still for a moment with a spot of
crimson in her cheek and a half-dazed look in her eyes, and then,
turning swiftly, moved off the stage.

Then Winifred rose with a gasp, and turned upon the young man next her,
who looked up inquiringly.

"Yes," she said sharply; "can't you let me pass? I'm going out."

It was about half-past nine when she reached the wet and miry street.
A fine rain drove into her face, and she had rather more than a mile to
walk without an escort, but that was a matter which caused her no
concern. She was a self-reliant young woman, and accustomed to going
about unattended, while she was also quite aware that the scene she had
just witnessed would bring about a crisis in her and her friend's
affairs. For all that, she was unpleasantly conscious of the leak in
one rather shabby boot when she stepped down from the sidewalk to cross
the street, and when she opened her umbrella beneath a gas lamp she
pursed up her mouth. There were a couple of holes in it near where the
ribs ran into the ferrule, which she had not noticed before. She,
however, plodded on resolutely through the drizzle, until three
striplings who came with linked arms down the pavement of a quieter
street barred her way. One wore his hat on one side, the one nearest
the kerb flourished a little cane, and the third of them smiled at her
fatuously.

"Oh my!" he said. "Where's dear Jemima off in such a hurry?"

Winifred drew herself up. She was little and determined, and, it must
be admitted, not quite unaccustomed to that kind of thing.

"Will you let me pass?" she said. "There's a policeman at the next
turning."

"There really is," said one of them. "The Dook has another engagement.
Dream of me, Olivia!"

A