D’Almayne appeared about to avail himself of the permission which Mr. Crane thus graciously accorded him; when suddenly drawing back, he exclaimed, “Excuse me one minute; the thorns are so very sharp, I am afraid to hand it to you without some protection against them;”--then, taking a slip of paper from his waistcoat pocket, he wound it round the stem of the flower, and fixing his eyes with a meaning look on those of Kate, he gave her the rose. Having done so, he began talking to Mr. Crane; and soon contrived, by a judicious selection of topics, chiefly connected with the Stock Exchange, to engross that zealous Mammonite’s attention. As soon as his wife perceived this to be the case, she unrolled the paper from the stem of the rose, and, glancing at it hastily, perceived the following words written in Horace D’Almayne’s neat hand: “Give me five minutes’ conversation--I will make the opportunity, if you will avail yourself of it.” Instantly crushing it in her hand, she rushed into conversation with Arabella Crofton, on the merits and demerits of certain new annuals; which subject, skilfully managed, lasted her until Lord Alfred Courtland returned, arm in arm with Monsieur Guillemard, better got up, more jaunty, and in yellower kid gloves than ever. This vivacious foreigner was instantly captured by Horace, and desired to explain, “as he alone could do,” the peculiar advantages of that famous investment in Terra Cotta preference bonds, as Mr. Crane had an odd £10,000 lying comparatively fallow--only at three-and-a-half per cent--which he would be glad to put out well. So, foolish avarice and clever roguery ambled off together. Then D’Almayne contrived to dispatch Coverdale and his wife to look at a wonderful specimen of the _Hypothetica Screamans_, and to saddle Lord Alfred with Arabella Crofton, although that smitten young aristocrat would have preferred to have trotted mildly about after Alice, like a pet lamb. Having disposed of these supernumeraries, he as a matter of course offered his arm to Kate, who had quietly acquiesced in his arrangements, and followed at such a judicious distance that, although they still belonged to the party, in effect they enjoyed all the advantages of a _tête-à-tête_. D’Almayne was the first to break silence. “This is most kind,” he said, “and leads me to hope that you are at length beginning to understand me--to perceive that my only wish is to act the part of a true friend towards you. I have a conviction that I owe a duty to you, for I often reflect with pain how large a share I had in bringing about your marriage.” At these words Kate gave a slight start, and her colour deepened: not appearing to observe these signs of agitation, her companion resumed: