d could say that she had ever been imprudent. That
which the lenient may call a school-girl escapade--a mere flight to the
garden for a few minutes--was scarcely sufficient to account for this
feeling. She must be unwell, she thought. And she decided, with some
wisdom, not to submit herself to the scrutiny of Paul Deulin again.

Mr. Mangles had not finished his excellent cigar; and although
Miss Mangles did not feel disposed for another of those long,
innocent-looking Russian cigarettes offered by Deulin, she had still
some views of value to be pressed upon the notice of the inferior sex.

Deulin had been glancing at the clock for some time, and, suspiciously
soon after learning that they were not to see Netty again, he announced
with regret that he had letters to write, and must take his leave.
Cartoner made no excuse, but departed at the same time.

"I will come down to the door with you," said Deulin, in the passage.
He was always idle, and always had leisure to follow his sociable
instincts.

At the side door, while Cartoner was putting on his coat, he stepped
rather suddenly out into the street, and before Cartoner had found his
hat was back again.

"It is a moonlight night," he said. "I will walk with you part of the
way."

He turned, as he spoke, towards his coat and hat and stick, which were
hanging near to where Cartoner had found his own. He did not seem to
think it necessary to ask the usual formal permission. They knew each
other too well for that. Cartoner helped the Frenchman on with his thin,
light overcoat, and reaching out his hand took the stick from the rack,
weighing and turning it thoughtfully in his hand.

"That is the Madrid Stick," said the Frenchman. "You were with me when I
bought it."

"And when you used it," added Cartoner, in his quietest tone, as he
led the way to the door. "Generally keep your coat in the hall?" he
inquired, casually, as they descended the steps.

"Sometimes," replied Deulin, glancing at the questioner sideways beneath
the brim of his hat.

It was, as he had said, a beautiful night. The moon was almost full
and almost overhead, so that the streets were in most instances without
shadow at all; for they nearly all run north and south, as does the
river.

"Yes," said Deulin, taking Cartoner's arm, and leading him to the right
instead of the left; for Cartoner was going towards the Cracow Faubourg,
which was the simplest but not the shortest way to the Jasna. "Ye