He checked himself suddenly, as if conscious that his reminiscences were becoming somewhat intimate. But Daphne nodded a serious head. "I'm glad," she said simply. "One likes to be right about one's friends." Carthew shot a grateful glance at her; and presently they drifted into less personal topics, mutually conscious that here, if need be, was a friend--an understanding friend. The evening had yet one more incident in store for Daphne. Twelve-thirty, the _Ultima Thule_ of statutory indulgence--the hour at which London, thirty minutes more fortunate than Cinderella, must perforce fly home from scenes of revelry and get ready to shake the mats--was fast approaching; and the management of the restaurant began, by a respectful but pertinacious process of light-extinguishing, to apprise patrons of the fact. As Daphne and Carthew passed through the rapidly emptying vestibule to their cab, five flushed young gentlemen, of the _genus_ undergraduate-on-the-spree, suddenly converged upon the scene from the direction of the bar, locked together in a promiscuous and not altogether unprofitable embrace. They were urged from the rear by polite but inflexible menials in brass buttons. "What ho, Daph!" The cry emanated from the gentleman who was acting for the moment as keystone of the arch. Daphne, stepping into the cab, looked back. "Mr Carthew," she exclaimed, "it's Ally--my brother! He must have come up from Cambridge for the day. Do go and bring him here." She took her seat in the hansom, and Carthew went back. Presently he returned. "I would not advise an interview," he said drily. "Your brother--well, you know the effect of London air upon an undergraduate fresh from the country! Let him come round and see you in the morning." He gave the cabman his orders, and their equipage drove off, just as Sebastian Aloysius Vereker, the nucleus of a gyrating mass of humanity (composed of himself and party, together with two stalwart myrmidons of the Hilarity Restaurant and a stray cab-tout), toppled heavily out of the portals of that celebrated house of refreshment into the arms of an indulgent policeman. * * * * * More life--real life! reflected Daphne, as she laid her head on her pillow, tired out and utterly contented. To-day had yielded its full share. That peculiar but interesting interview with Miss Tallentyre, that glorious carnival under the blue sky at Hurlingham, and that laughter-and-tear-compelling spectacle at the Savoy--all had contributed to the total. Finally, that _tête-à-tête_ supper with Jim Carthew--indubitably a dear--ending with the episode of Ally. A little disturbing, that last! Well, perhaps Ally was only trying to see life too, in his own way. Life! Daphne tingled as she felt her own leap in her veins. And to-morrow would bring more!