Colville clasped his hands at the back of his head and looked at Mrs. Bowen with eyes that let her know that he was perfectly aware she had been telling Miss Graham of his youthful romance, and that he had now touched it purposely. "And you wouldn't," he said, as if that were quite relevant to what they had been talking about--"you wouldn't let Miss Graham go out walking alone with a dotard like me?" "Certainly not," said Mrs. Bowen. Colville got to his feet by a surprising activity. "Good-bye, Miss Graham." He offered his hand to her with burlesque despair, and then turned to Mrs. Bowen. "Thank you for _such_ a pleasant evening! What was your day, did you say?" "Oh, any day!" said Mrs. Bowen cordially, giving her hand. "Do you know whom you look like?" he asked, holding it. "No." "Lina Ridgely." The ladies stirred softly in their draperies after he was gone. They turned and faced the hearth, where a log burned in a bed of hot ashes, softly purring and ticking to itself, and whilst they stood pressing their hands against the warm fronts of their dresses, as the fashion of women is before a fire, the clock on the mantel began to strike twelve. "Was that her name?" asked Miss Graham, when the clock had had its say. "Lina Ridgely?" "No; that was _my_ name," answered Mrs. Bowen. "Oh yes!" murmured the young girl apologetically. "She led him on; she certainly encouraged him. It was shocking. He was quite wild about it." "She must have been a cruel girl. How _could_ he speak of it so lightly?" "It was best to speak of it, and have done with it," said Mrs. Bowen. "He knew that I must have been telling you something about it." "Yes. How bold it was! A _young_ man couldn't have done it! Yes, he's fascinating. But how old and sad he looked, as he lay back there in the chair!" "Old? I don't think he looked old. He looked sad. Yes, it's left its mark on him." The log burned quite through to its core, and fell asunder, a bristling mass of embers. They had been looking at it with downcast heads. Now they lifted their faces, and saw the pity in each other's eyes, and the beautiful girl impulsively kissed the pretty woman good-night. V Colville fell asleep with the flattered sense which abounds in the heart of a young man after his first successful evening in society, but which can visit maturer life only upon some such conditions of long exile and return as had been realised in his. The looks of these two charming women followed him into his dreams; he knew he must have pleased them, the dramatic homage of the child was evidence of that; and though it had been many years since he had found it sufficient cause of happiness to have pleased a woman, the desire to do so was by no means extinct in him. The eyes of the girl hovered above him like stars; he felt in their soft gaze that he was a romance to her young heart, and this made him laugh; it also made him sigh.