“I need not ask you if you were there, for no person but one who was present, and one who knew how to describe, could have produced such a vivid account of it all. How did you get in?” “In where?” murmured Jennie drowsily. She found difficulty in keeping her mind on what he was saying. “To the Duchess of Chiselhurst’s ball.” “Oh, getting in was easy enough; it was the getting out that was the trouble.” “Like prison, eh?” suggested the editor. “Now, will you have a little wine, or something stronger?” “No, no. All I need is rest.” “Then let me call a cab; I will see you home, if you will permit me.” “I am too tired to go home; I shall remain here until morning.” “Nonsense. You must go home and sleep for a week if you want to. Rouse up; I believe you are talking in your sleep now.” “I understand perfectly what you are saying and what I am doing. I have work that must be attended to at eight. Please leave orders that someone is to call me at seven and bring a cup of coffee and biscuits, or rolls, or anything that is to be had at that hour. And please don’t trouble further. I am very thankful to you, but will express myself better later on.” With this the editor had to be content, and was shortly on his way to his own well-earned rest. To Jennie it seemed but a moment after he had gone, that the porter placed coffee and rolls on the desk beside her saying, “Seven o’clock, miss!” The coffee refreshed the girl, and as she passed through the editorial rooms she noted their forlorn, dishevelled appearance, which all places show when seen at an unaccustomed hour, their time of activity and bustle past. The rooms were littered with torn papers; waste-baskets overflowing; looking silent, scrappy, and abandoned in the grey morning light which seemed intrusive, usurping the place of the usual artificial illumination, and betraying a bareness which the other concealed. Jennie recognized a relationship between her own up-all-night feeling and the spirit of the deserted rooms. At the railway station she found her maid waiting for her, surrounded by luggage. “Have you got your ticket?” “Yes, my lady.” “I have changed my mind, and will not go to Paris just now. Ask a porter to put those trunks in the left-luggage office, and bring me the keys and the receipt.” When this was done and money matters had been adjusted between them, Jennie gave the girl five pounds more than was due to her, and saw her into the railway carriage, well pleased with the reward. A hansom brought Jennie to her flat, and so ended the exhausting episode of the Duchess of Chiselhurst’s ball.