O'Rourke jumped from his chair, and grasped the other by both hands. Then he dashed into his bedroom and shouted for Smith. When he was half-dressed he remembered that he had forgotten to ask any questions, or even to be excused, while he changed his clothes. He looked into the sitting-room. "Forgive my bad manners, Mr. Ellis. You see I'm in rather a rush," he said, gaily. "Oh, certainly," exclaimed Ellis, starting up from a gloomy contemplation of the fire. He crossed over and smiled wanly at O'Rourke. "If you don't mind," he said, "I wish you'd keep quiet about my part in--in this affair. She would despise me, you know--and I couldn't stand that." "But I can tell her about to-night--about your kindness," suggested O'Rourke. Ellis shook his head and smiled bitterly. "She may not look at it in so charitable a light as you do," he replied, "so please put it all down to chance. She does not know that I have ever heard of you, except from her." O'Rourke promised, and, after shaking hands, Ellis left his rival to complete his toilet. This he did in short order. To return to the drawing-room across the square. By degrees Hemming drifted half around the room, and at last found himself against the wall, between the door from the hallway and the table containing the punch-bowl. He was feeling a bit weary of it all, and sought refreshment in the bowl. He had almost decided to go home, when the door at his elbow opened, and to his surprise O'Rourke entered, resplendent in white breast, black tails, and eager smile. This comrade tried and true passed him without a glance--worse still, strode between his host and hostess without a sign of recognition. Glass in hand, and monocle flashing, Hemming wheeled and stared after him. Others looked in the same direction. Valentine and Marion smiled sheepishly at their empty, extended hands. But the lady of the gallant, shapely shoulders and unaffected laughter faced the late arrival with the most wonderful expression in the world on her face. For a moment she seemed to waver. Then strong hands clasped hers. "Bertram," she sighed. "Dearest--am I too late?" "But--oh, what do you mean? See, they are all looking." "I love you. Didn't I ever tell you? And I have searched the world for you." "Hush--see, they are all staring at us. Oh, stop, or I shall certainly cry." She snatched her hands away from his eager grasp. "But tell me," he begged, in a whisper, before she could turn away. For a wonderful second their eyes read what the years of longing had set behind the iris for love to translate. Then she bowed her face, and answered "Yes." He did not know if she shouted it, or but murmured it beneath her breath; it rang through his body and spirit like the chiming of a bell. "Drag me away," he whispered to Hicks. "I don't want to make an ass of myself before all these people." "You've done that already. Come into my study," said Hicks. Hemming, scenting the truth, followed them.