ing something, what she did not hear. But on the steps
beneath the perron, she turned and saw that which previously she had not
realised, he was extraordinarily good-looking, and about her closed a
consciousness that her rowdy frock was a tissue of diamonds and that he
was in doublet and hose.

A moment only. But during it something melted about her. Immediately
aware of the phenomenon, she felt that she ought to freeze. She tried to
and failed. The atmosphere of deliciousness prevented and, though she
did not know the reason, she did know that she had failed and the fact
instead of annoying, amused. Then, as she followed Paliser into the
house, she told herself that she was an imbecile, that she did not know
her own mind and, without transition, wondered how her father was taking
it.

From the hall, they passed through a succession of rooms vacant,
subdued, rich, and on into that other room where she had sung. At the
farther end was a hyacinth curtain that masked a door. But near the
entrance through which she had come was an ivory chair. Cassy, seating
herself on it, wondered what had become of the bundle. She was sure that
it held everything except what she wanted. Then suddenly behind her blue
smock came a gnawing. She thought she would ask Paliser to have somebody
fetch her a sandwich, two sandwiches, or else some bread and butter,
but, now that she looked for him, he had gone.

She got up, crossed the room and sat down on another chair which was
black, probably ebony. It had a curial appearance that suggested the
senate, not the senate at Washington, but the S. P. Q. of Rome. It was
quite near the hyacinth curtain and behind the latter she heard voices.
Like the rooms they were subdued. She could distinguish nothing. Yet
there must be a bell somewhere and she decided that if Paliser did not
shortly return, she would ring. The gnawing was sharper. She was very
hungry.

Again she got up and looked from a window. It gave on a garden in which
there was underbush that the moon was chequering with amber spots. After
all, it was a queer sort of a wedding. But what had she expected? Grace
Church? St. Thomas'? Invitations a fortnight in advance, aisles banked
with flowers, filled with snobs and the garbage of the Wagner score that
Ma Tamby had tossed after her? Not by a long shot!

She turned. Paliser was entering. But the gnawing had nibbled away the
enchantment and, as she turned, she looked rather cross.

Paliser