"Might have got over that by this time of night, one would think," said Percival, looking at his watch. "Hold hard! you aren't going yet?" exclaimed Bertie, bounding up.--"Here, Judith, let's have another song to take the taste of old Clifton out of our mouths. Whatever possessed him to come here to-night?" [Illustration: "DRINK TO ME ONLY WITH THINE EYES."--Page 298.] They had two or three songs instead of one, and then Percival went off. Judith put her work away, shut up the piano and laid Bertie's music straight. He stood meanwhile with his back to the dying fire, idly chinking some money which he had taken from his waistcoat-pocket, a half-crown and two or three shillings. His brows were drawn down as if he were lost in thought. Presently, his half-crown went spinning in the air: he caught it dexterously--heads. Bertie half smiled to himself, as who should say, "Well, if Destiny will have it so, what am I that I should resist it?" It is very well to toss up if you have already come to a decision which you cannot quite justify. Should the verdict be adverse, it is no worse than it was before, for if you have really made up your mind so trivial an accident will not stop you. It may even be your duty to show that you attach no superstitious importance to it. And, on the other hand, if chance favors you, some of your burden of responsibility is transferred to the shoulders of Fate. So Bertie smiled, pocketed his half-crown, kissed his sister and went off to his own room, whistling on his way thither with peculiar distinctness and perseverance. Nearly an hour later two figures stood by the dim light in the passage and conversed in whispers: "Now, my charming Lydia, how about that key?" "I'll 'charming Lydia' you!" was the reply. "I like your impudence!" "I know you do. You shall have some more when I've time to spare. But now I must really be off. Get me the key, there's a dear girl." "I can't, then. If you want a latch-key, why don't you go to ma and say so like a man? There it is, and you'd have it directly." "O most unreasonable Lydia! How many times must I explain to you that that wouldn't do, because your ma, while she possesses many of the charms, is not quite exempt from the weakness of her sex: in short, Lydia, she talks." "Well, what then? If I were a man I wouldn't be afraid of my sister. I'd be my own master." "So will I," said Bertie Lisle. "And I'd say what I meant right out. I would!" "If you knew there'd be a fuss, and people anxious about you, would you?" He yawned. "No: I'll be my own master, but I like to do things quietly." "I don't care so much about that," said Lydia, whose feelings were less delicate. To struggle openly for an avowed object seemed to her the most natural thing in the world, and she would have preferred her independence to be conspicuous. She did not understand that with men of Bertie's stamp it is not the latch-key itself, but the unsuspected latch-key, which confers the liberty they love.