s' cloak, and the floor valet was there to relieve
Philip of his overcoat. A waiter was hovering in the background.

"Supper is served in the dining room, sir," he announced. "Shall I open
the wine?"

Philip nodded and showed Elizabeth over the little flat, finally ushering
her into the small, round dining room.

"It's perfectly delightful," she declared, "but we don't need nearly so
much room, Philip. What a dear little dining table and what a delicious
supper! Everything I like best in the world, from pate de foie gras to
cold asparagus. You are a dear."

The waiter disappeared with a little bow. They were alone at last. She
held his hands tightly. She was trembling. The forced composure of the
last few minutes seemed to have left her.

"I am silly," she faltered, "but the servants and everything--they won't
come back, will they?"

He laughed as he patted her hand.

"We shan't see another soul, dear," he assured her.

She laid her cheek against his.

"How hot your face feels," she exclaimed. "Throw open the window, do. I
shan't feel it."

He obeyed her at once. The roar of the city, all its harshness muffled,
came to them in a sombre, almost melodious undernote. She rested her
hands upon his shoulder.

"What children we are!" she murmured. "Now it's you who are trembling!
Sit down, please. You've been so brave these last few days."

"It was just for a moment," he told her. "It seems too wonderful. I had a
sudden impulse of terror lest it should all be snatched away."

She laughed easily.

"I don't think there's any fear of that, dear," she said. "Perhaps--"

There was a little knock at the door. Philip, who had been holding
Elizabeth's chair, stood as though transfixed. Elizabeth gripped at the
side of the table. It was some few seconds before either of them
spoke.

"It's perhaps--Beatrice," Elizabeth faltered.

The knock was repeated. Philip drew a little breath.

"Come in," he invited.

The door opened slowly towards them and closed again. It was Mr. Dane who
had entered. From outside they caught a momentary glimpse of another
man, waiting. Mr. Dane took off his hat. For a man with so expressionless
a countenance, he was looking considerably perturbed.

"Miss Dalstan," he said, "I am very sorry, believe me, to intrude. I only
heard of your marriage an hour ago. I wish I could have prevented it."

"Prevented it?" Elizabeth repeated. "What do you mean?"

"I think that Mr. Philip Romilly cou