George Newbold, proverbially a man of few words, wrung his friend's hand in the grip of a giant, and muttered an incoherent "Old fellow, can't thank you; it was splendidly done." And then came Dick Darling, her laughing face sobered for a moment, and a look of true admiration in her eyes, as she said: "Mr. Tremain, you are a brick; it was awfully tip-top of you! I tell you what; for downright bravery you 'take the cake!'" But from no one did Philip receive such delicate and subtle flattery as from Miss James. That young lady fairly glowed with the magnitude of her admiration. She went about with raised eyelids and drooped lips, as though always contemplating, mentally, his past danger, and returning thanks for his deliverance. She was also always meeting him at odd times, and in out-of-the-way corners, and asking with solicitude after his "poor injured wrist," offering to bind it up for him, or write his letters, or read to him; which last, as Dick said, "was palpably absurd, since Mr. Tremain's eyes and brains were not injured, or out of working gear." Philip, hating all fuss, and especially fuss in which he deserved so small a share, made the most of his strained wrist and kept in the smoking-room, or his own chamber, the rest of the day, and there nursed his rancour against Miss James for being a fool herself, and making him appear an equal one; and his resentment towards Mdlle. Lamien, who had passed him by almost without recognition, drawing the falling laces closer about her face, and not heeding the eager hand he put out to detain her, or the alert tone in which he asked after her health. She had paused just one brief instant, as though about to speak, and then, evidently changing her intention, drew herself up and passed down the stairs, not once looking back, or replying by a word to his courtesy. There was a full-dress rehearsal called for that evening, and Philip, as he sat moodily in his own room, smoking his cigar, felt a half savage delight in the knowledge that Mdlle. Lamien must appear for it, and respond in a somewhat less chilling and uncomfortable manner to the requirements demanded by his rôle. A little before tea-time he heard voices in the corridor outside, which he recognised as Dick Darling's and Baby Leonard's. "Only think; she has actually come," Miss Leonard was saying, "and a day before she promised!" To which Dick briefly replied, "Who?" "Why, Miss Hildreth, of course; who else are we all waiting for? Really, Dick, you grow very dense!" "Oh, do I?" returned Miss Darling, unmoved. "And so Patricia has come at last? Patricia the beautiful, Patricia the inconstant, Patricia the slayer, Patricia the conqueror! Well, I agree with you, Baby, 'tis something to be sure of her, for Miss Patty is but kittle cattle at best!"