The dinner, subtly ordered, was a complete success, and Madeline Irwin was in a dream of happiness, but Bertha was sorry to see that Nigel, who was usually remarkably moderate in the matter of champagne, and to-night drank even less than usual, had the whole evening a trembling hand. Even at the ballet, where he was more than usually ready to enjoy every shade of the enjoyable, he was not quite free from nervous agitation. He did not drive Rupert home, but let Rupert drop him in Grosvenor Street at twelve-thirty--for a slight supper was inevitable and Rupert had taken them to the Savoy. * * * * * Mrs. Hillier was in bed and asleep. The maid said she had been ill and excited. The maid, frightened, had sent for the doctor. His remedy had succeeded in calming her. The next day Mary seemed subdued, and was amiable. Both ignored the quarrel. Nigel believed it would not occur again. He thought his firmness had won and that she was defeated. He did not understand her. CHAPTER VIII PERCY "I've had such a lovely letter from Rupert, Bertha. I'm so excited, I can't read it almost!" Bertha held out her hand. Madeline was looking agitated. "He says," said Madeline, looking closely at the letter in her short-sighted way, "that he wishes he could burn me like spice on the altar of a life-long friendship! Fancy!" "Rather indefinite, isn't it?" "Oh, but listen!" And Madeline read aloud eagerly: "_Yesterday evening was perfect: but to-day and for several days I shall be unable to see you. Why is a feast day always followed by a fast?_" "Is it Doncaster to-morrow?" asked Bertha. "Don't be absurd, that's nothing to do with it. Listen to this. _What a curiously interesting nature you have! Am I not right when I say that I fancy in time, as you develop and grow older, you may look at life eye to eye with me?_" "Madeline dear, _please_ don't mistake that for a proposal. I assure you that it isn't one." Madeline looked up sharply. "Who said it was? But, anyhow, it shows interest. He must be rather keen--I mean interested--in me. It's all very well to say it means nothing, but for a man nowadays to sit down and write a long letter all about nothing at all, it must have some significance. Look how easily he might have rung up! I know you're afraid of encouraging me too much, and it's very kind of you--but I must confess I _do_ think that letters mean a great deal. Think of the trouble he's taken. And there's a great deal about himself in it, too." "Of course, Madeline, I don't deny that it does show interest, and he probably must be a little in love with someone--perhaps with himself--to write a letter about nothing. As you say, it's unusual nowadays. But you mustn't forget that, though Rupert's young, he belongs to the '95 period. Things were very different then. People thought nothing of writing a long letter; and a telegram about nothing was considered quite advanced and American."