She sat there plucking the wool out of the mat in her restless imaginings, while her head grew hot and her eyes heavy with weary self-communing; she heard Mr. and Mrs. Werner go down stairs; she heard the stir and bustle of arriving guests; she listened to the buzz of talking and the light rippling of laughter, as one drifting out to sea in a rudderless boat might listen to the voices and the merriment of those safe on a shore fading away in the distance; she heard the rustle of the ladies' dresses as they passed in to dinner, and then it came to her like an inspiration--where she should go. "I will do it. I will," she said almost audibly, and she turned the handle of the door gently, and crossing the room caught up her hat and shawl, and then closing the door behind her, went carefully down stairs, surveying the country she had to pass through over the bannisters. Strange waiters were about and she passed through them unobserved, and sped off to the nearest cab-stand. There she hired a vehicle, which she left waiting her return some half-dozen yards from Mr. Werner's house. The door was fortunately open to admit of some guests invited to "come in the evening," and she entered with them and, unnoticed save by Mr. Werner's butler, crossed the hall and ran up stairs. Arrived at her husband's side she touched him gently. "Are you rested dear, at all? It is time for us to be going." "Going!" he repeated, between sleeping and waking, "are we not at home?" "No love, at Mr. Werner's." He raised himself a little and looked at her. "I think I have been asleep," he said. "Oh! now I remember, but I thought we were to stay here all night. It was arranged that we were, was it not?" "Yes, dear, but I find it is not convenient for us to do so. Visitors have come, and we ought not to intrude under the circumstances. There is a cab at the door. Can you walk with my arm or shall I ring for assistance?" He rose, still looking dazed and bewildered, and she put her arm round his body and he placed his arm round her neck; it was thus he had with weak and uncertain steps often paced his room at Homewood. Trembling over the descent of each stair, she got him at length to the bottom of the last flight, and then beckoning one of the waiters, she asked him to help her husband to the door, while she herself searched for his top-coat and hat. Whilst she was so engaged the butler appeared, "Why, ma'am," he said, "you are surely never going back to Homewood to-night?" "I find we must go," she answered; "I had forgotten something. I have left a note for Mrs. Werner upstairs, but do not tell her we have left until all the company have left. She--she--might be uneasy. I have borrowed a rug, tell her I will return it in a few days; and help Mr. Mortomley to the cab. Thank you, good night, Williams," and she put half-a-crown in his hand. Poor Dolly! and half-crowns were not plentiful, and likely to be less so.