"I think it is a marvel, too," she said slowly. "I am so glad. You know, the first year I had it it was cream, the second year mauve, the third year black. Such a beautiful black, too! Of course, the fashion——" she looked at the puff sleeves regretfully—"they are rather out of date, are they not?" "That doesn’t matter," Nora assured her. "The fashions are anyhow so ugly——" she was going to add "here," but stopped in time. Frau von Seleneck laughed her comfortable laugh. It was one of her virtues that she never gave or suspected offence. "Quite right, Norachen. How wonderfully sensible and practical you English are—at least, I should not say ’You English,’ for you are a good German now, my dear!" It was evident that she had intended the remark as a compliment, and Nora was annoyed with herself for her own rather grim silence. "But there!" her friend went on with a sudden gust of energy, "here I stand and chatter, and it is getting so late! If there is one thing Her Excellency dislikes it is unpunctuality, and at this rate we are certain to miss the tram. Now, isn’t that annoying! Bertha has hidden my goloshes again!" In response to a heated summons, the little maid-of-all-work made her appearance, and after a long scramble around the hall hatstand the required articles were discovered and donned. "Now I am _really_ ready!" Frau von Seleneck declared for the twentieth time, and to confirm the statement proceeded to lead the way downstairs. Nora followed resignedly. She knew that it was raining, and she knew also that the very idea of taking a cab would be crushed instantly as a heinous extravagance, so she gathered up the frail skirt of her chiffon dress and prepared for the worst with a humorous despair. Fortunately, though they indeed missed the tram, the road to Her Excellency Frau von Gersdorf’s flat was not a long one, and only Nora’s temper suffered in the transit. And even that circumstance passed unnoticed. Frau von Seleneck had walked very fast, and by the time they had mounted the flight of stone stairs leading to their destination she was hopelessly out of breath and in no mood to notice Nora’s ruffled condition. "Ah, but it is good to be arrived!" she sighed in English as she yielded her cloak to the attendant housemaid. "Now, my dear!" The "now, my dear" was uttered in an awe-struck tone which suggested a solemnal entry into the Imperial Presence, and Nora, following her lead towards the drawing-room, experienced the bliss of a short-lived hope. She knew that it was a great honour to be invited to "Her Excellency’s Evenings"; was it not possible that they might be different to the other "evenings" which she knew so well? Was it not possible that she was to see new faces and learn to know a brilliant world which she could show to Miles without—— She did not finish the thought, and indeed the hope had died at birth.