It struck him, as she came downstairs with her wraps on, that she was looking remarkably pale. She had worn a becoming color during the evening, but she seemed to have lost it in the dressing-room. As they walked away from the house Arthur began, to the best of his ability, to make himself agreeable, but with very poor success. Not only was Maud, as usual, a feeble contributor of original matter, but her random answers showed that she paid little attention to what he was saying. He was mentally registering a vow never again to permit himself to be committed to a tête-à-tête with her, when she abruptly broke the silence which had succeeded his conversational efforts. Her voice was curiously unsteady, and she seemed at first to have some difficulty in articulating, and had to go back and repeat her first words. What she said was:-- “It was very good in you to come home with me to-night. It is a great pleasure to me.” “You 're ironical this evening, Miss Elliott,” he replied, laughing, and the least bit nettled. It was bore enough doing the polite to a girl who had nothing on her mind without being gibed by her to boot. “I 'm not ironical,” she answered. “I should make poor work at irony. I meant just what I said.” “The goodness was on your part in letting me come,” he said, mollified by the unmistakable sincerity of her tone, but somewhat embarrassed withal at the decidedly flat line of remark she had chosen. “Oh, no,” she replied; “the goodness was not on my side. I was only too glad of your company, and might as well own it. Indeed, I will confess to telling a fib to one young man who offered to see me home, merely because I hoped the idea of doing so would occur to you.” This plump admission of partiality for his society fairly staggered Arthur. Again he thought, “She must be quizzing me;” and, to make sure, stole a sidelong glance at her. Her eyes were fixed straight ahead, and the pallor and the tense expression of her face indicated that she was laboring under strong excitement. She certainly did not look like one in a quizzing mood. “I am very much flattered,” he managed to say. “I don't know whether you feel so or not,” she replied. “I'm afraid you don't feel flattered at all, but I--I wanted to--tell you.” The pathetic tremor of her voice lent even greater significance to her words than in themselves they would have conveyed.