d Paul, 'is sadly in want of a lesson in
good-breeding. I shall be happy to offer him one.'

'Upon my word,' returned Captain MacMadden mildly, 'you're devilish
peppery. Hadn't the slightest intention to affront anybody, upon my
word. Nothing further from thoughts. Can't say moah.'

'Mr. Armstrong,' said Claudia, 'I have never seen you display this
ill-bred brutality before. I had not expected you to show it in my
presence to my friend.'

Paul felt for the instant that he had been brutal and ill-bred. Claudia
judged him so, and whatever Claudia said must needs be just But when she
had swept by him to the waiting brougham and the fashionable escort had
followed her, he stood in a choking rage, and felt like Cain. A thick
drizzle was falling, and he swung out into the night, glad of the wet
coolness in his flaming face, and the wet wind that fanned him. The
streets were heavily mired and the drizzle grew to a fast downpour.
He turned up his coat-collar and ploughed along, growing more and more
resolutely angry, and more and more resolved to fight his case out with
Claudia. The house in which they lived was dark when he reached it,
except for a single gas-jet in the hall at which guests bound bedward
lit their candles. He walked into the dining-room and sat down to wait,
with nothing but the winking jet on the wall and his own thoughts for
company. The fire in the grate had died, and its cooling ashes made
a crisp, faint noise from time to time. The clock on the mantelpiece
ticked irritatingly, and sounded the quarters at intervals which seemed
curiously irregular. At times one quarter seemed to follow close on
another's heels, and the next seemed to lag for hours. Paul was soaked
to the skin, and had violent fits of shivering, but he would not leave
his post lest he should miss Claudia.

Cabs rolled by, and every one brought Claudia to his fancy, but scores
of them passed without pause. One o'clock sounded and no Claudia. Two
o'clock, and no Claudia. Then the rumble of a lonely hansom, a slippery
stoppage of a horse's feet, and Claudia's voice crying, 'Two doors
higher up.' Then a renewed motion, a pause, the scrape of a latchkey at
the lock, and Paul was on his feet, candlestick in hand.

'Mayn't I come in?' asked the hateful voice of Captain MacMadden. 'On'y
a moment, upon my word.'

'Certainly not,' Claudia answered curtly. 'Good-night.'

'You'll think of what I asked you?'

'Indeed,' said Claudia, in a voice